


we rose merrily down

by RJ_Hastings



Series: Edge [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Allusions to Suicide, Detective/Cop AU, Kidnapping, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Survivor Guilt, non-explicit reference to violence and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 100,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RJ_Hastings/pseuds/RJ_Hastings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Jones is, arguably, one of Texas’ finest detectives. Transferred over from New Jersey as part of his promotion, Michael spends his years forming a reputation as a foul mouthed crime solver that gets shit <i>done</i>. </p><p>Then one evening, Michael is on his way home when he gets a call from the station about a situation. A woman has called in about a man standing on the edge of a high building downtown and it’s looking like he’s gonna jump. Taking a detour, and perhaps breaking a few laws on the way, when he gets to the scene, Michael’s chief tells him that he’s the man to go up to try to talk the guy down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To start things off, I expected this fic to only be around the neighbourhood of 30 thousand words, but it's pretty obvious that I was wrong about that. I was writing this story for the Mavin ficbang last year, but well... 
> 
> Anyway, here it is. 
> 
> I want to thank my beta, Sorou, for without them I'd be lost. I also want to thank the other people I sent this story to in order to get help when I was stuck, so thanks a bunch. 
> 
> There are warnings for this fic for the use of a gendered slur and allusions to suicide. The specifics of the latter are answered in the fic, but I just wanted to be sure that it was covered. If there is something I may have missed a warning for please do not hesitate in sending me a message with a suggestion on how to tag it properly. 
> 
> The title is from [Bird in the Thyme](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csqV1pS_7h0) by Tiny Ruins. The song acts as sort of a theme for the beginning of the fic... 
> 
> If you have any questions or just want to say hi, I can also be found on tumblr at therearenohooksinme.

**2 years earlier (2013)**

**Tuesday, June 4 th, 5:02 PM CST, 11:02 PM WET**

It is four days into his week off and he is restless. Night has fallen and it is quiet in his apartment, the only noise being the summer rain pattering against his window. He’d been in the living room since the afternoon and his eyes had been focused on the TV screen, but he’d barely paid attention to the programs.

It’s now the early evening and the television has long since been turned off and he’s relocated to his room where several books lay scattered on the floor. He is sitting up in bed entertaining the cat when the phone rings. He shuffles out of his room and pads across the carpeted living room floor towards the phone and, when he checks, the caller ID tells him it is a long distance number. He picks up. When he puts the receiver to his ear he can barely let out a greeting before a woman’s voice cuts him off.

 _“Hello?”_ She asks. She sounds as if she has been crying.

“Yes?” He says and there’s a shuddering breath from her end of the call.

_“She’s gone.”_

“Gone?”

 _“She was taken.”_ Her voice is nearly a whisper and she doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t have to.

His chest rises and falls as he breathes in and his exhale crackles over the line.

“Does your husband know?” He asks and another harsh breath comes over on her end of the line.

 _“It was his turn to pick her up from school, but he got stuck in traffic and was late. He knows.”_ There’s no blame in her voice, she’s just stating simple facts, but it burns all the same.

“All right, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He pauses. “Don’t do anything reckless.” He hangs up.

Before he leaves, he calls his roommate and explains. Once the call ends he takes a moment to let everything sink in, and then he heads to his room to pack. When he catches her watching him, he gives the cat a scratch under her chin.

“Take care of him while I’m gone, little girl.” He says, and then the lights are turned off and the door is locked behind him.

When he leaves it is late and dark, the sun already gone from the sky.

When he reaches his destination, the sun has just begun to rise.  

\---

**Thursday, June 6 th, 6:33 AM CST**

He wakes up in the guest room and gets dressed in silence. The house is quiet which means neither she nor her husband are awake yet. So he makes his way downstairs, silent as a cat, and when he gets to the kitchen, he stops. Standing in the corridor, his eyes rove over the room as he takes everything in. Everything is essentially in its place aside from their dishes from the night before which are piled up by the sink. He walks over and sets them inside before turning the faucet on. A few seconds pass then the tap is flicked off and he sets to making some coffee. It’s an hour later when she comes down and he says nothing as he hands her a cup of the reheated brew. She thanks him with an exhausted smile.

“Morning.” She says after her first sip, peeking up at him over her mug. Her voice sounds a little hoarse and he lifts his mug to his mouth to hide his frown. When she looks away he takes a sip. It tastes like ashes on his tongue.

As he cradles his own mug in his hands, lukewarm tea wafting bergamot to his senses, he notices that her eyes are red, bruises sleeping under them like purple-blue beasts. Beasts like the monster that dragged her into this mess.

\---

“Are you going to start today?” She asks later. Their mugs are in the sink with the rest of the dishes and her husband is still asleep. The two of them are in the living room on the couch, the TV on but muted. He sits with his back against an armrest and she is nestled between his long legs, her back against his chest. She’s woven their hands together, hers pale and decorated with ink and his tan and cold.

He nods.

“Be safe?” She says as she tilts her head back and her hair tickles against his nose.

“I’ll try.” He whispers into her ear.

\---

It’s later in the day, early afternoon, when he hears someone approach the house. Whoever it is comes and goes and he opens the door after he’s sure they’re gone.

When he checks, a package has been left on the doorstep. Inside the package are a phone and an earpiece. Checking the phone yields nothing. The note, which he finds a little later, is taped to the inside of the box.

_Find the highest point in town and dive for her freedom, pretty boy. It’s the only way._

_\- K_

The penmanship is unfamiliar, but he has an idea of who sent the package. Now all he has to do is wait for the call and hope that the bastard hasn’t done anything.   

\---

**Friday, June 7 th, 5:40 PM **

It’s early in the evening, sun still shining thanks to the summer season and it’s hot as dicks in Michael’s car. He’s making his way home after a slow day at the department after Geoff had kicked mostly everyone out of the bullpen, because (fucking hell) nothing was going on. After that it’d been too fucking quiet and the silence had nearly driven Michael up the wall. And it’s not like he’d been doing anything that could be called productive. There were no major cases, no arrests. Suffice to say it’d been a slow fucking day and he’d done nothing but file paperwork while sipping iced coffee to try to stay cool.

So Michael had packed up, shoved a couple folders filled with case files into his bag and he’d waved to everyone over his shoulder as he headed out the front doors. When he got to his car he tossed his shit into the back seat and then shucked his suit jacket into shotgun. Sitting at a desk decked out in a suit might have been fine in an air conditioned work place, but even with the AC on and the windows cracked, Austin’s muggy heat sings to him loud and clear.

He licks his dry lips as droplets of perspiration slide down the back of his neck and soak the collar of his shirt. The radio is turned down low, the growl of classic rock just another part of the din, part of the rumble of engines, kids wheeling by on bikes or boards and he’s only been in Texas for two years, but it’s already home.

A couple minutes pass when he slows down to come to a full stop at a red light. The volume of the radio is still the same, but Michael can hear the broadcast go to commercial, can hear the iconic voice of the host inform listeners about whatever.  

_‘…the hour is five forty five, it’s a beautiful eve and it is a balmy 86 degrees. It’s also looking the same for the rest of the week so bring out ya shades, sunblock, and what have yous and try to stay cool, because we’re gonna burn for a bit.’_

The host panders on for a bit more before introducing another track and then music floods the vehicle once more, crashing cymbals and the strumming of guitar emanating from the speakers and Michael licks his lips again.

He’s just over half way to his apartment when his phone starts ringing, custom ringtone telling him that it’s business, not pleasure, calling. So he signals right and pulls in front of a meter and puts his car in park. He turns the key and the engine cuts and so does the radio and then… silence. He reaches over to the seat beside him, picks up his phone and slides a finger across the touchscreen to answer. To his surprise it’s not Geoff’s voice but the voice of a fellow detective telling him there’s a situation.

 _“Hey Michael, sorry to call you while you’re on your way home, but we got a call and Geoff wants everyone on it.”_ Ryan sounds a bit tired, his usual upbeat tone subdued, but Michael chalks it up to whatever the fuck is happening. It must be a big deal if Geoff wants _everyone_ on the scene.

“S’fine. What’ve we got?” Michael asks, putting his phone on speaker and setting it in his lap so he can start his car and put it in drive. Ryan sighs and Michael just barely hears it over the rumble of the engine.

 _“A woman called in about a man on the edge of a building downtown… and it’s looking like he’s going to jump. Exact address is west on Tenth and Lavaca.”_ When Ryan finishes speaking, Michael lets out a deep breath of his own and his grip on the steering wheel becomes tight.

“Fucking hell.” Stepping on the brakes, Michael waits and then makes a sharp turn. He’d been on his way home, but Tenth Street is in another fucking direction. Ryan speaks up again when he’s on a straight away.

 _“I know. So, see you there?”_ For a bit, Michael says nothing being too preoccupied with trying to calm his racing mind. As he stops at a red light, he comes to a decision.

“Yeah... Hey, I might even beat you there.” With that, Michael hangs up and then tears out from the intersection and speeds the rest of the way, silently sending gratitude to whoever thought of portable police lights.

\---

**5:20 PM**

He’s about to walk out the door when she grabs onto his arm, yanking him back and clenching her hands in the fabric of his jacket. He turns to look at her, sees worry and fear in her eyes and his heart aches.

“You don’t have to do this! You’ve already done so much, so just…” Her words die off and he moves to her, hands settling on her bare arms, flesh warm under his chilled palms. His thumbs absently trace the lines of ink, grounding him as he opens his mouth to explain.

“That’s just it, love,” he says as his hands lightly grip her shoulders. “I _do_ have to do this. It’s my job.” She gives him a broken look and he frowns. Her hands come up to wrap around his wrists and though she has him in her hold, he doesn’t feel trapped. Instead he feels cared for, almost overwhelmingly so. He’s got years and years on her, but it’s plain to see that she thinks of him as a son.

“Your job is to help people! How is _this_ going to help? This isn’t-” She cuts herself off when she looks into his eyes, when she realizes she’s already lost this battle. She swallows then and he watches her throat move. “Just be careful okay. If you do anything stupid and I hear about it, I’ll go after you and fucking end you myself.” He chuckles at that and folds her into his arms.

For a minute she does nothing, but then she wraps her shaking arms around him and fists her hands in his jacket. _I’m going to miss this_ , he thinks as his cheek presses against her hair. She is warm, comfortable, and smells like sawdust and coffee and sweat cling to her _._ He commits these facets to memory, as if he’ll shatter without them (which he might), and reminds himself that he’s doing this for her. She and her husband took him in, called him family when he was just doing his job… She represents a home away from home, so he has to do this for her, for her husband, and their daughter. And maybe even for himself.

“I know. I promise. I know.” After he lets her go and before he leaves, he presses a kiss to her temple. And then he walks away without looking back. (Because looking back would make his steps falter and he _can’t_ afford that.)   

\---

She watches him go with fire in her eyes and her heart in her throat, arms wrapped around herself and fingers digging hard enough to bruise. She can still feel the ghost of his touch on her flesh, but it’s fading fast.

The tremors in her frame, the rapidity of her pulse, the thinness of her lips as she presses her mouth shut- she’s scared and she knows it, but she doesn’t want to be.

“Goddammit.”

It’s when he’s been gone for a short while that she finally goes inside. She lingers in the foyer before going to the phone to make a call. Receiver clutched in a white knuckled grip and her heartbeat roaring in her ears, she resists letting out a sigh of relief when it’s picked up halfway through the second ring.

“Hey honey. Yeah, no I’m fine. Listen…”

\---

**6:00 PM**

When he gets to the scene there’s already a swarm of people built up on the street and several squad cars parked by the entrance. As he gets closer, pushing people out of the way as gently as possible, Michael finds Geoff stood in front of a cruiser with a handheld radio in one hand, his cell in the other.  

“I got the call. Status update?” Michael asks and Geoff looks to him briefly before talking into his phone.  

“Yeah, I understand. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” He hangs up and then spits a few things into his handheld before facing Michael.

“Geoff?”

“It’s a good thing you got here so quickly Jones, because we need someone to go up, and you’re the man for the job.”

“Wait, what?”

“You’re going up to talk him down.” Now, Michael has heard every word just fine, in fact he’s heard perfectly and Geoff is really good at not fucking about when it came to actual police work. But the idea of him talking to some potentially suicidal civilian is absurd to him.

“But why would you choose _me?_ Just last week you reamed me a new one because I couldn’t hold my temper! How the hell do expect me to rein it in to get a guy down from a fucking ledge!” He’s breathing heavily now, extremely dismayed that he hasn’t gotten any better at abating his anger, but Michael just doesn’t see how he’s the one to go. Nevertheless, despite his screaming, Geoff looks him square in the eyes as his arms come up to fold in front of his chest. A stern expression furrows his brows and his lips curve downward in an impressive frown. Like this, Michael has a clear view of Geoff’s tattoos. He can see the ink winding and twisting around his chief’s wrists and the words he was going to say die in his throat. Geoff is hardly the most intimidating person Michael knows, but this time around he is sufficiently cowed. He keeps his mouth shut as Geoff addresses him again.

“You’re going because I say so, Jones. You’re an asshole, but you’re one of our best.”

Michael wants to say something, not to deny his asshole status or the fact that he’s good at his job, but he vehemently denies his ability to talk with people. That’s Ryan’s shtick. Ryan Haywood with his basso voice, calm and soothing and easily construed as sympathetic whereas Michael is quick to anger, voice regularly hoarse and throat sore from screaming. Fucking hell, even Joel is better with people than he is and the man looked at dead bodies for a living! Michael wants to say no, the reply is on his tongue, but he just can’t get it out. He’s been driven speechless.

Michael hears Geoff’s radio warble again, and he swallows nervously when Geoff ignores it in favour of continuing his stare down with him. He’s never seen Geoff this adamant, this determined. Geoff had a great work ethic, but this went beyond what Michael knew. It was, quite frankly, unsettling and gave Michael the feeling that his chief knew more than he was letting on.

But Michael was beat, so he let that sleeping dog lie.

“You’re gonna do it, Michael. Or is that man gonna come down because gravity dragged him to the asphalt?” Geoff asks as he points upwards and in the approximate direction the man is in.

“Geoff…” Michael basically pleads, but the determined set of Geoff’s face does not change.

“Detective Jones.” He says in a deceptively neutral tone of voice and Michael hangs his head.

He has the feeling that, if circumstances were different, if the situation was not was it was currently, and if Geoff was up front and open about what he knew, someone else would have been ordered to go up. Like he’d thought before, Michael believes Ryan would have been a good choice or even Jack who had a heart that outsized his beard. Any other time, that would be the case, but it is not the case today.

So Michael grits his teeth, clenches his hands at his sides, and tips his head in the affirmative. If he has to go, he’ll go. No one is gonna die on his watch.

He breathes in and his eyes close.

When he exhales the breath hisses past his teeth and his eyes open.

“Understood, sir. I’ll go.” He says but all he sees is when Geoff’s lips quirk.

The lack of emotion baffles Michael. He’d expected a sort of triumph or satisfaction from his acquiescence, but other than a little twitch of the lips, Geoff remains unmoved and Michael has no idea how to react to that. But when Michael turns away, he misses how Geoff looks anything but satisfied at his agreement. If Michael had been looking he’d have seen worry in Geoff’s eyes. Worry that could be more appropriately called fear.

So Michael is fitted with Kevlar, just in case, is given a handheld of his own, and is relieved of his .40 caliber Glock. When he asks, the answer is “we have no way to tell if he’s armed, but if he is we don’t want him to shoot you. We also don’t want you to shoot him. Death is what we’re trying to prevent here.” And Michael nods because it makes sense, but his hip feels just that much lighter, feels somewhat naked without his firearm, but it’s all for the best. He hopes.

“All right, I’m going up.”

\---

**5:50 PM**

“So that’s your game then; me for her. I jump and she goes free.”

His shoes go _tap, tap, tap_ as he climbs the stairs. _Tap, tap, tap_. Each one a gunshot to his already bleeding heart.

_“That’s exactly it. Hell, if you take the leap, I’ll even let the bitch get off paying the ransom.”_

“The ‘bitch’ has a name, mate.” He nearly snarls, teeth gnashing together when the fucker laughs.

There’s a sharp click of a heel as he comes to a stop.

 _“Yeah, yeah, but that means nothing to me.”_ He pictures the other man waving his freehand in a ‘I couldn’t care less’ manner and his knuckles go white with how hard he grips the phone. When he hears a breathy laugh from the ear piece, he struggles to keep quiet about it. It’s a Herculean feat considering how he’s already come to despise that laugh.

“Why _are_ you doing this then?” He asks and there’s a sigh.

A few seconds later there’s the metallic sound of a door slamming open and then shut. It eats up the silence in between as he walks; his shoes going tap, tap, tap with every step forward. “Why put a little girl in danger if you could’ve gotten more money by committing a different crime?” The bastard just scoffs and rage coils within him like a snake ready to strike.

 _“That’s just it,_ mate. _Either way, I get what I want.”_

“And what is it that you want?”

 _“You out of my hair, or the five hundred thousand I asked for. Either or. Considering my position, I can afford to be a little greedy, right?”_ And there’s that laugh again.

His eyes squeeze shut and his jaw hurts when he gnashes his teeth together. Though he has no need for it, he takes a deep breath and then exhales heavily. His shoes scrape against stone as he hoists himself up and the wind whips at him as he stands on the ledge. A part of him, his instincts most like, is screaming at him to get down, screaming at the top of its lungs to personally go after the bastard that took her, but he’s come this far already. The other part of him, the part that holds his reason, his emotions, is calmly telling him that this is the way to go.

But fuck if it’s not a long way down.

He knows the bastard doesn’t need the money. He knows that he just wants to fuck her over more than he already has, but he’ll have none of it. His eyes close and then open, and he turns his head to watch a bird he’d seen in his periphery flap its wings then glide. It’s a raven.  

“Looks like you’ll get your wish, then.”

All he gets in response is laughter knows he’ll hear for years.  

\---

**6:11 PM**

Michael takes the elevator as high as it can go because, while he’s fit enough to take the stairs, he figures it’ll be easier to talk to the guy if he isn’t huffing and puffing and maybe even cursing. (It _is_ Michael for Christ’s sake.) He does have to take the stairs, however, to get to the roof and he’s exponentially glad that the door has already been unlocked or he’d have been fucked.

It’s incredibly sunny when Michael gets outside and he shields his eyes. The sun hasn’t even begun to set and he’s grateful for the natural light up until his eyes adjust and he sees him.

He’s not what Michael had been expecting, the guy on the edge. Where he thought he’d be talking with some shabby old man, Michael instead gets a guy that looks around his age. Or at least Michael thinks he’s around his age. He can’t really tell what with the guy having his back to him, but there are a few ways of telling. Straight backed with a full head of hair, the guy has to be at least younger than thirty. The fact that he’s dressed to impress; tailored grey suit and expensive looking shoes makes Michael confused as to why he’s on the edge, but you can never tell what goes on in someone else’s mind unless they tell you. It does, however, tell him the guy will leave a lot behind. A further look has Michael eyeing the smartphone he has in hand.

 _‘You clearly want for nothing. What the fuck are you doing up here?’_ Michael wonders.

A moment passes and he takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He needs to remain calm. He doesn’t have the full picture, isn’t sure if he’d find the last piece to the puzzle, but he would do his best to work with what he had. Mind racing and heart pounding in his ears, Michael opens his mouth and speaks.

"Sir, could you please come down from the edge?" He asks as he walks forward, steps slow and deliberate with a hand reflexively on his hip where his gun holster should be. The man's head turns a fraction, but Michael still can't see his face. "Please sir, turn around and come down so we can talk." 

"And why should I come down?" Asks the man, and Michael doesn’t say a word, choosing to remain silent out of pure shock. Initially it was the English accent that had taken him off guard, but it’s the lack of inflection in the other’s voice that has him terrified.   

Finally, after mustering up some resolve, Michael opens his mouth and says,

"Well, there are other ways to make things better without putting yourself in harm’s way."

Michael chooses his words wisely, because anything could set the guy off, and he’s, admittedly, unable to bring up the subject of death directly. Silence stretches between them and for a moment Michael thinks the guy won’t speak. So it throws Michael completely off guard when the guy starts laughing. The lack of cheer in it, the sadness… It rends Michael heartstrings; painful plucking that leaves Michael feeling hurt and sad.

"I'm sorry lad, but I must say that you're a tad off the mark with that statement. This is, in fact, the  only  way. I'm afraid you wouldn't understand." And the thing is, Michael _doesn’t_ understand, doesn’t know what would drive someone to take their life, but he wants to. He wants to find the reason and _eradicate_ it. Or at least make it into a rock that can be stepped over instead of a mountain to climb.

“Oh?” He isn’t aware that he’s hunched into himself until the man turns around and faces him. Michael feels himself straighten as he takes in a kind looking face with bright eyes. When he looks more closely, the man’s gaze is unreadable save for a complex sadness Michael wants to decipher before it’s too late. He also finds the guy attractive, but he tries to move on from that observation, feeling incredibly guilty.

Pressing his lips into a thin line and shoving down the urge to yank the guy from the edge (who the fuck leaves a roof unfenced anyways?), Michael steels himself and presses on.

"Then let's at least talk. There’s no harm in that, right?" Michael asks as his earpiece buzzes, Geoff's voice telling him that an ambulance is on standby. "I'll start. What's your name?" 

"Gavin." Is the near instant answer and Michael is relieved because he might be getting somewhere. He releases a breath as Gavin watches with an almost predatory, catlike gaze. It’s disconcerting as fuck, the change in demeanour, but Michael will take it over the sadness from before.  

"Well, hey there, Gavin. I'm Michael." 

\---

**6:26 PM**

They’ve been arguing for what feels like hours, but Michael knows less than half an hour has gone by since he arrived on scene and even less time since he’s started talking with Gavin. The sun has barely moved in the sky, and while Michael feels its warmth, there is an inexplicable chill seeping into his bones. He tries to shake it while simultaneously trying to convince Gavin that he _does not have to jump_.

"You don't have to do it, Gavin! We can get you help, just please! Please get down from the fucking edge."Michael knows Geoff and the rest of the force on scene are listening in on this, knows that they can hear the desperation in his voice and the resignation in Gavin's, but he doesn’t give a damn. He knows he’ll get a citation for deviating from training, for going off the wall and it’ll be one of several marks on his record, but regulations be damned because all Michael cares about now is getting Gavin down from the edge. Alive.

He shouts at Gavin again, pleadingly, but when Gavin shakes his head and flashes a piteous smile in Michael’s direction, the chill he felt only moments ago comes full force and his blood runs cold.

The next few seconds occur as if in slow motion. It’s as if Michael is a race horse with blinders on and when Gavin gives Michael a smaller, but infinitely sadder smile, he moves. He runs towards Gavin full tilt just as the idiot opens his mouth to speak.  

 _"I'm sorry Michael.”_ Gavin says before he gives a two fingered salute. And then his feet push off the stone wall, and he spreads his arms as if they’re wings that’ll let him fly.

A pained scream tears from Michael’s throat.

_“No!”_

Legs screaming from being knocked against stone, Michael is nearly tossed off the parapet after Gavin by his own momentum. Just before he goes over, he catches himself at the waist and his hands scrabble on stone, scraping his palms and nicking his fingers. He knows he’ll feel it all later, but with adrenaline rushing through him, he’s numb to every other pain than the one in his chest.

“God damnit! No! Fucking- _Fuck!_ ” It takes seconds for Gavin to become a dark speck hurtling towards the ground, but when he steps back from the edge all Michael sees is Gavin’s face the moment before he stepped off. Bright eyes, sad smile…

_“I’m sorry Michael…”_

Eyes unfocused and heart hammering, Michael shoves his hands into his hair and _pulls_.

For a second there is just the sound of his heavy breathing. In and out, in and out.

Aside from that, there is silence.

And then there is nothing but screams.

 ---

**6:28 PM**

The crowd that’d assembled is deathly quiet until there is a sickening crack when a body hits the pavement. There’s a breath of silence as the shock grips the crowd and then all hell seems to break loose. But it’s not the screaming of the panicked witnesses that spurs him into action. What ultimately gets Geoff to move is the familiar flash of golden brown hair.

“Oh no. No, no, _fuck no._ ” Ignoring the other officers, he runs over to the body. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees, doesn’t want to process what has happened, but try as he might, he can’t hold in an anguished scream when, after getting closer, he sees the man’s face. His eyes are closed as if he were sleeping, but the pool of blood by his head has spread so much that Geoff can’t ignore it.

“You fuck! You _goddamned_ fuck! Why did you fucking do this? You didn’t have to- didn’t have to…” Geoff’s yelling degenerates into wordless screams as he kneels by Gavin and grabs him by his clothes. He’ll be hoarse tomorrow, his voice will crack more than it usually does, but it _doesn’t fucking matter_ because Gavin is gone and Michael was the last person to see him alive.

_‘If we’d have gotten here sooner we might’ve been able to prevent this.’_

“Fucking, fuck…”

He was so fucking sure Michael would be the one to talk him down, but instead he was firsthand witness. His knees numb from kneeling by his friend’s already cold body, a moment passes and then Geoff freezes.

Oh god, Michael.

Hands clawed in Gavin’s jacket, Geoff waits a beat and then he lets go, looking away from Gavin’s body as he tries to hold back tears. Suddenly filled with purpose, he yells at Jack to take care of things, ropes Ryan into crowd control, and then books it into the building, taking the stairs two at a time. The elevator might be quicker, but it doesn’t register because a friend is gone and another might be slipping away.

\---

“C’mon, c’mon…”  He shoves the roof access door open with a shoulder and stumbles outside, trying to catch his balance as his momentum forces him forwards. He plants his hands on his knees and heaves, his breath whooshing as he gulps in air. Slowly his head lifts and he sees Michael. The young detective has his back against the parapet he assumes ( _knows_ ) Gavin threw himself from and his head is bowed, hands gripped tight enough in his hair that Geoff knows it’ll hurt to uncurl his fingers.

“Oh, Michael…” Hearing his name, the kid snaps his head up and Geoff winces at the abrupt motion. When he moves closer he can see that Michael’s eyes are bright with unshed tears.

“I had one job, and I fucked up.” Michael’s voice is low and raw and wrecked by sorrow, but Geoff says nothing as he closes the distance between himself and the younger man. He remains silent when he throws regulation to the wind, and kneels down in front of Michael, wrapping his arms around him and pressing their foreheads together. He utters not a word when Michael clings to him like a child, buries his face in in the crook of Geoff’s neck who can already feel the tears.

“Fuck no. You will not do this to yourself. You did your best. He was just too far gone.” Geoff says, but he gets nothing in reply, just strangled breaths and repressed sobs and his knees ache from kneeling, and his calves burn from running, but his heart is aching the most.

But while the guilt of lying kills him, he doesn’t tell Michael what he knows. He wouldn’t dare inflict that on an employee, let alone a friend. Geoff is a dick ninety percent of the time, and a dick in charge at that, but he isn’t a sadist and Michael needs time to get over this. He doesn’t need to get preoccupied with figuring out why Gavin did what he did. So Geoff cards a hand through Michael’s hair and tries to hold a breaking man together while he himself is falling apart.  

\---

**6:32 PM**

Even ten stories up Geoff can hear the commotion down on the ground. He can somewhat hear Jack barking orders in his place and can vaguely make out Ryan as he placates civilians while the others clean up the mess. What’s worse, Geoff can hear EMTs drive off as his people cart the body away. Sirens are blaring and there’s a fuckton of yelling, but when Geoff closes his eyes, he can feel Michael’s erratic heartbeat, can hear the man’s shuddering breaths.

Soon the wailing of sirens fades and Geoff pictures what’ll happen. He imagines Gavin’s body will be turned in to their station. Joel will take a look at the body and come to the conclusion that Michael has to face each time he will inevitably recall this night. He was killed by the fall,

killed by the fall,

_killed by the fall…_

“G-Geoff? You can let go of me now.” Michael’s voice is too fucking quiet, too raspy, but Geoff has his mind made up.

Michael can never know.

“Sure thing, buddy.”

\---

**7:04 PM**

“Hey Michael, I need to talk to you about something. Think you could come with me for a bit?” Michael looks away from the mug in his hands and up at an unusually somber Joel. He says nothing, but nods before taking a final sip of his long gone cold coffee and then trails after the taller man to the lab.

When Michael gets there his heart constricts when his eyes find Gavin on the autopsy table, covered from the neck down by a white sheet he’s used to seeing on the bodies of people he doesn’t know. And fuck, yeah, sure he didn’t _know_ Gavin, but he could’ve. Seeing the body of a man he could’ve gotten to know better hits him like a ton of bricks and it is Joel’s voice that brings him out from under the pile.  

“So I was checking out our guy here and I thought to let you know that I found this on him.” Michael brings his gaze from Gavin’s face and trains it on Joel’s outstretched gloved hand. ‘This’ turns out to be an earpiece. It’s a standard Bluetooth, casing dark enough that Michael understands not seeing it earlier. What baffles him is that it’s in really fucking good condition for having gone for a ten story drop.

“How the hell did it survive the fall?” Michael’s voice wavers on the last word and Joel’s eyes narrow in sympathy before he answers.

“I don’t know. What I _do_ know is that you might not want to tell anyone that you have that.” His neck hurts with how fast he snaps his head up to look at the pathologist.

“What?”

“I’m giving it to you to keep. After all the shit that happened today I’m sure you’d like to forget, but-” Michael cuts him off.

“No. I-I’ll keep it…” He says, but Joel just stares at him. “I’ll keep it.” He says again more firmly and Joel’s mouth quirks.

“Good. Okay, but be careful, all right?” Michael just nods. He doesn’t know if he should be grateful that Joel didn’t comment on his slip.

“Well if that’s all, I’m heading home. It’s been a long fucking day. See you when I see you?” Michael asks, but he looks away before Joel has a chance to answer. He slips the earpiece into his pocket as he turns to leave and starts walking, but he doesn’t get very far. He’s just at the door when Joel’s voice stops him.

“Hey, Michael?”

“Yeah, Joel?”

“What happened wasn’t your fault. You did what you could.” He sounds incredibly sincere and Michael is grateful (?) touched (?) by his concern, but that’s just it, ain’t it? He did what he could and Gavin still took the fucking fall. He still took a ten story leap and it makes Michael sick to his stomach that he feels glad that he doesn’t have to pass the building Gavin jumped from on his way home tonight, or on the way to work in the days to come. (Because this is obviously gonna stick with him for a _long_ time.) He doesn’t voice this thought, though. Today _has_ been taxing and Michael can see it in everyone’s faces that they’re tired. There’s paper work to muck through and though he’s missed it, he knows that Gavin’s death had to have been in the news and it’s going to be broadcasted all over the internet, and headline in newspapers. He knows his friends will hear, Geoff’s wife and kid will hear, and Ryan will have to explain to his boy that they couldn’t help someone today, but it’s their job and Michael feels like his heart will burst, but he keeps it in. He _has_ to, because no one needs that. No one needs to deal with a break down, especially not today. So he shoves the feeling down and locks it away and looks to Joel over his shoulder.

“Good night, Joel.” He says.

“Good night, Michael.” Joel replies, but he’s already gone.

\---

**10:23 PM**

From an outsider’s standpoint, everything seems to be well in the Ramsey household.  Geoff’s wife and child are sound asleep together in the master bedroom while he is in the living room, a six pack of beer at his feet while a rerun of an episode of one of his favourite shows plays on TV. After a long day, chilling on the couch late at night seems perfect.

But it’s not. It’s really not.

It can’t possibly be perfect because despite having his daughter back, despite the fact that his wife is no longer climbing the walls with worry (and is therefore able to rest), the image of Gavin’s cracked head on the pavement in a pool of blood will _not_ leave him. Try as he might, he just can’t forget it. And neither is he able to forget the image of Michael’s face after Gavin’s jump, how wrecked he’d looked, how choked up he’d sounded up on the roof when Geoff went to go get him.

God, Geoff just wishes he could drink his thoughts away. He wishes that he could do something, make some change so that none of what happened today had ever come to be, but he can’t.

He fucking can’t.

Worst of all was when he made the call to Gavin’s employer in England. His supervisor had been understandably shell shocked to hear about what had happened, and it was fucking brutal to arrange for someone to come over and take Gavin’s body back overseas. Now, the call itself wasn’t very long, but to Geoff it felt like years had gone by until he had hung up and returned to (not really) watching what was on television.

It’s not the show’s fault that he can’t pay attention. As favourites are wont to do, it grabs him from start to finish, but tonight he just isn’t into it. The issues the characters are facing are completely trivial in comparison to what he’s feeling.

Clutching to the neck of the beer bottle as if it were a lifeline, Geoff squeezes his eyes shut and tries to keep himself out of the darker recesses of his mind. He fights and he fights, but it’s a losing battle.

“Fucking christ…”

He just can’t keep the image of Gavin’s body in the morgue, after Joel had checked him out, off of his mind. It’s as if the sight the body of one of his best friends lying underneath a white sheet on an examination table is forever imprinted on the back of his eyelids, because even when he closes his eyes, he can see it in vivid detail. He can recall that, despite the blood matting the hair at the back of Gavin’s head, despite the table, the clinical smell of the lab, it’d been like his friend was just sleeping.

He sees it all and he wants to forget. He smells blood and hears screaming, and he feels like he’s going to be sick.

He wants to forget. ( _Forgetforgetforget-_ )

But he can’t.

He just fucking can’t.

He ends up chugging the last of his first, and only, beer, storing the rest in the fridge and then heading upstairs to the master bedroom after he shuts the TV off. Once in the room, silently as he can, he strips down and changes and then gets into bed. He wraps his arms around his wife and child and begs for sleep to take him before he can start thinking about what happened during the day again.

He almost gets his wish.

Almost.

He falls asleep before the thoughts can reach him. But once he’s asleep, the nightmares take him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**2 years later (2015)**

**Monday, July 15 th, 5:53 AM CST **

_Michael’s been in this situation before._

_Countless nights; dreaming the same thing over and over and over again, waking up screaming, sweat dripping into his eyes and plastering his hair to his flushed face. It’s fucking exhausting, the insomnia brought on by his mind reliving a happening he’d really rather forget._

_But it just. Keeps. Happening._

_In this nightmare he’s running up the stairs to get to him. To Gavin. He’s taking the steps two at a time and he grits his teeth when his feet make impact, but he can’t allow himself to stop. Still, his legs have forgotten that they’re legs and he’s stumbling, knees buckling and threatening to send him careening down the stairs, but he makes it. He makes it to the roof, but he always makes it. Always pushes through the door, hand coming up to block the sun. Always makes his approach to the guy on the ledge, hand hovering by his hip where his gun rests in its holster. He always has his gun in his nightmares. So what if it’s a crutch?_

_In this nightmare, when Gavin jumps, (he_ always _jumps) he takes Michael with him. He latches onto Michael’s hand at the last second and drags him over the parapet when the detective gets too close, cooing ‘Michael’ in his ear, while gravity pulls them down, down, down, but they just keep falling. Windows pass by so quickly they become a blur and he doesn’t feel it when his body hits the ground because he_

_Wakes_

_Up._

With a scream that tears from his lips.

“Michael. Michael… _Michael!_ ” Michael’s eyes snap open and he gasps, heart fit to burst out of his chest when gentle hands tug him into a warm body and he hates himself a little more for it, but he shakes (goddamn does he shake) as his hands come up to latch onto a soft cotton shirt. His hands quiver as they cling onto whoever has him in their arms and his eyes dart around his room until they settle on the clock on his bedside table. _5:55 AM_ the garish red figures seem to shout at him. Fucking Christ.

“Lindsay?” He rasps and there’s a sigh. When he finally lets go Michael berates himself. Of course it’s her, of course it’s Lindsay. Lindsay Tuggey (girlfriend turned ex, turned best friend) has stayed the night and has been since he fucked up two years ago. God damn.

“You were having the nightmare again, weren’t you.” Lindsay states. She never asks, hasn’t had to for a while now. She just knows and Michael has since stopped trying to bullshit her. He’s quit hiding his anger and guilt and worry and it hasn’t been smooth sailing, but it’s better (than nothing, better than holding it in until he cracks). But he’s cutting it pretty fucking close.

“What gave it away?” There’s an ugly twist to his lips, and it’s not quite a grin and not even a smile, but Michael is too tired to try and figure it out. As a result Lindsay scowls at him. When she speaks, her voice is soft like if she speaks too loudly he’ll break. He’d usually feel slighted, feel like he was being talked down to, but right now he can’t bring himself to hate her for it.

“Hey there, asshole. Stop. It wasn’t your fault, okay?” He’s heard it before, from Geoff, from Joel, from several other people including the moron that performed his psych evaluation, but it doesn’t erase the feeling that it _is_ his fault. So he says so.

“Funny, still feels like it is.” Lindsay frowns and Michael smiles ruefully. She’s such a clever girl and Michael’s gone and made it easy for her. He’s gone and used the present tense after all, so she has all the more reason to call him on it. Might have well used a blow horn or a microphone to announce the guilt he feels. So he waits. And waits, but the admonition doesn’t come.

She doesn’t call him on it because she’s fucking merciful that way. Christ, Michael doesn’t deserve her. She’s so good, _too_ good and it _hurts_ because he loves her to death, but that scares him to hell and back because look what happened after some guy he barely knew swan dived from a building. What would happen if someone he cared for, like Lindsay, were to call it quits like Gavin had? What if he couldn’t save her like he couldn’t save him? What if-

“Michael?” Lindsay asks and Michael shakes his head.

“It’s okay Linds. I just wish- I just wish I could’ve saved him.”

When Michael looks at her she’s frowning again and this time it’s Michael who wants to wrap her in his arms until she stops. God what a mess he’s become.

“You did all you could, Michael. He just must have been too far gone…”

‘ _He was just too far gone…’_ Geoff’s voice is clear as crystal when Michael recalls it and it rings like a death bell. He flinches, but it’s not Lindsay’s fault. No, it could never be her fault. But her choice of words is awful no matter how unintentional and she, of course, figures it out faster than Michael can scream ‘fuck.’ So he speaks before she does because fuck if he’s putting anything on her.

“But that’s just it Linds, you weren’t there. You didn’t see the look in his eyes before he jumped. He was so, so _calm_. So fucking calm…” He stops talking after that and Lindsay simply gathers him in her arms again, her fingers threading gently through his hair and her lips pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You did what you could.” She says again, but Michael won’t have it.

“I did what I could,” Michael echoes, “but it wasn’t enough.”

\---

**8:43 AM**

The television cuts to commercial and Michael lets his head thunk back against the couch, eyes falling shut. He’s usually on his way to work right now, on the road getting stuck in morning traffic, but Geoff has practically ordered him to stay home for at least a day. Something about working himself like a dog or whatever the fuck the saying is. So what if Michael wants to get some extra hours in? It’s no one’s business but his if he wants to work and Michael knows his limits. And it’s a good thing ain’t it? Michael’s heard shit, seen posts online and heard others over Live complain about cops and how they don’t do this, or why they shouldn’t do that. ‘Fuck cops, don’t fuck cops.’ The increase in police presence has kept the city quiet in terms of crime so what is there to worry about?

“Hey, Michael?” Lindsay calls from the kitchen and Michael actually shakes himself to clear his head. Picking up the remote and muting the TV, he cranes his neck in her direction.

“Yeah?” He hears her tinker around a bit before she speaks.

“I gotta head to work in a bit so I called Ray and asked him to come over to help relieve you of your boredom.” A fleeting smile lights Michael’s face at the news. He hasn’t seen Ray, in person, for nearly a week and one can only communicate over Xbox live for so long.

“Thanks Linds.” He says his tone warm and grateful and he smiles when he sees her lips quirk up at the corners. His eyes stray from her face to the clock on the wall to his right. Getting up, he places a hand at the small of her back and crowds her to the door. “Now come on, get the fuck out of here so us men can validate our manliness through shooting each other’s dicks off in Call of Duty.” Lindsay laughs loudly at that and Michael grins. Her laugh is a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. So he waits as she ducks into his room to grab her bag and the air is light when she comes out, stopping by the door to slip on her shoes.

“Fine, okay I get it. I’m going now.” Before she leaves she pecks him on the cheek and he waits until she’s a vibrant speck down the walkway before closing the door after her. Once it’s locked he returns to the living room and crashes on the couch figuring he can doze for a bit before Ray arrives.

But with his eyes closed, Michael can see Gavin’s face again, eyes bright and sad while his sandy hair whips in the wind.

 _“This is the only_ _way…You wouldn’t understand…”_

As if they were compensating for his exhaustion, Michael’s eyes fall open slowly and he stares at his ceiling as he waits for Ray to arrive. His pulse is racing but he tries to keep his breathing deep and slow in order to calm himself down. It’d be fucking awful, Michael thinks, for him to break down in front of Ray after what the man had done to help. So he waits. It won’t be long; Ray lives no more than twenty minutes away and the only thing that might deter him would be a vlog recording taking longer than it needs to or the fence around Michael’s building.

See, Ray has no reason to hop the fence, but he’s done so nearly every time he’s come over to hang out ever since Michael first moved in and bet that he couldn’t jump over it. In regular Ray fashion, he’d taken the bet, but had bailed out last second.

_‘The fucker does it every time to prove a point now.’_

The only times he hadn’t were the weeks spent in a cast after breaking his leg thanks to a previous jump.

Five more minutes pass after Michael’s finished counting the initial twenty and he’s worried that Ray’s fucked up the jump again when, sure enough, there’s a knock at the door and Michael hauls himself from his couch to answer it.

“Sup man.” Ray greets with a jaunty little wave and Michael raises an eyebrow as he holds open the door. “Jesus, you look like shit.” He remarks as he passes Michael to enter the apartment. He’s made his way to the end of the short hall, but turns just as Michael shuts his front door.

“Thanks a bunch, Ray.” Michael says as he turns to face his friend. “Honestly, you really know how to treat a guy. Like, I’m fucking swooning over here.” Michael elaborates and Ray scoffs, grin curving his lips as he shrugs.

“No problem. You know I got your back, right?”

“Asshole.” Michael snaps, but he’s grinning and so is Ray. The fucking shit.

“Ouch, that really hurts, man.” Ray says as he dramatically clutches at his chest and then rubbing where his heart is. “You’re making my kokoro go brokoro. Not nice.” Michael rolls his eyes.

“Oh fuck off; you’ve gotta have thicker skin than that. You lived in New York for fuck’s sake!” Michael exclaims and Ray’s response is a sly grin.

“I dunno you wanna help me find out?” He asks waggling his eyebrows which looks ridiculous with his hair and Michael leans back as Ray leans in.

“Fucking Christ, keep it in your pants BrownMan.” Ray just grins while Michael scowls, but they can’t keep their straight faces for long. Laughter eats up the silence, but the trill of Michael’s phone cuts them off.

“Looks like Mogar’s needed, huh?” Ray asks somewhere around the third ring, but Michael doesn’t reply in favour of picking up. This is the second time he’s been called in while off duty and the familiar twisting in his gut tells Michael that shit is serious.

 _“Michael?”_ A voice with a low timbre asks and Michael takes pause. To his surprise it isn’t Geoff on the line, it’s Jack. The sick feeling from before intensifies and Michael moves to the living room to sit down, Ray silently following after.

“Yeah, Jack?” The couch dips as Ray sits next to him, and while Michael doesn’t show it, he’s really fucking grateful Ray is here with him. After what happened two years ago, the last time he got a call from work that wasn’t from Geoff, it’s been hard not to jump to the worst case scenario whenever the station calls his cell.

 _“So that body that was found in the alley last week…”_ Jack starts and Michael’s mind calls up memories of crime scene photos and reports made by responding officers. It takes a hell of a lot not to hang up on Jack right now. His fingers twitch as he breathes out through his nose.

“The one where the victim was a university student?” Michael finishes and Jack loudly releases a deep breath of his own on the other end.

 _“Yeah, that one. Our rookies responded to a call around four AM while on their beat.”_ Jack tells him and Michael winces reminiscent of his time walking the beat in Jersey.

“What the fuck happened?” Michael asks and Jack sighs again.

 _“We’ve uh, we’ve got another body.”_ Jack says slowly. _“A busboy found it when he was taking out the trash.”_

It paints a nasty picture in Michael’s mind, but he’s not sure why Jack’s giving him all this information over the phone when it’d be easier to brief him at the station. At home Michael is getting nothing from Jack regaling him with details he could skim over in a report.

“It’d be awesome if you stopped beating around the bush, Jack. Just what the hell are you saying?” Michael practically growls and he can hear the rustling of papers and murmurs of voices on Jack’s end of the call.

 _“All right, all right, fine. According to first responders, our most recent scene looks pretty damn similar to the one from last week, and maybe even one that happened before that.”_ More sounds of papers rustling. _“So while you’ve been preoccupied with working yourself ragged by taking case after case, Ryan’s been on this since the first body and he told me he’s pretty sure we have a serial killer on our hands._ That’s _what I’m saying.”_

“Fucking hell,” Michael says, voice peaked. In any other situation Jack might have laughed at his use of profanity, but not now.

 _“Yeah, ‘fucking hell’ indeed. Look, I’m sorry to call you on the one day you_ finally _decided to take a break, but we need you on this. Ryan may be already on it, but he needs at least another man and I’m still working on the Swanson theft. And Brandon and Jordan are swamped with the garage arsons so…”_ There’s a pregnant pause before anything is said, and Michael takes the time to breathe in and out heavily before replying.

“I get it, Jack, I do. I’ll be there in a bit. Save a white board for me, okay?” Michael says as he stands up from the couch and he can hear the relief in Jack’s voice when he says,

_“Sure thing, Michael; you got it. See you.”_

“Yeah, see you.” And then he hangs up and the hand that held his phone to his ear drops like the arm of a puppet cut from its string. He looks to Ray and finds a worried and confused look on his friend’s face.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to postpone that COD match.” Michael says by way of explanation and Ray deflates, but a look of understanding overtakes his features.

“I see,” Ray says, and then he pauses. “But fucking hell, today of all days?”

“I know.”

“ _Fuck_.” Ray says again with more conviction and Michael laughs humourlessly.

“I know.” The next moment is filled with Michael leaving his living room and heading to his bedroom to get changed. Ray remains on the couch and pulls out his phone to text Lindsay.

_BrownMan >TuggLife: Shooting match’s been postponed. _

A few seconds tick by and then his phone buzzes alerting him to her reply.

_TuggLife > BrownMan: Why? Is something wrong? _

Ray frowns deeply. Should he or should he not?

_‘Ah fuck it.’_

_BrownMan > TuggLife: u could say tht_

_TuggLife > BrownMan:  Well fuck._

_BrownMan >TuggLife: yep _

He doesn’t tell her about what he’s heard; figures Michael will tell her later when she next sees him because Michael may be an asshole, but he’s good at telling people things they wanna know. But it feels weird not saying anything. See, if Ray were an artist, information would be his medium of choice. Because he’s good at providing accurate details to whoever needs them. So when Lindsay inevitably asks for specifics Ray tells her to wait for Michael to tell her himself because though he’s heard half of what was a seriously shitty phone call, he doesn’t know enough to give her what she wants. When he doesn’t get a reply back by the time Michael is out of his room, he’s worried, but he understands. Slipping his phone into his pocket, he looks up in time to see Michael adjusting his collar.

“Ditching the tie Mr. Detective?” Ray asks in a suggestive tone and Michael splutters before he laughs and Ray revels in the display of amusement.

“God, Ray; no, ain’t nobody got time for that shit.” Michael let’s out between gasps of breath and the smile that’s carved its way onto Ray’s face will not go away. The sound of Michael laughing is a wonderful thing.

\---

After Michael dips into his room to get his shit, he stops at the door. He looks back to Ray who’s gotten up to stand just a few feet behind him. Right, there’s no use in him staying in your apartment if you’re going to work, dumbass. The thought flits through Michael’s mind, but Ray’s voice prevents him from thinking along those lines any further.

“Go get ‘em, Smokey.” Rays says and Michael blinks before smirking. He unlocks the door, but turns to his friend smirk still firmly in place.

“Wrong bear, shithead.” Michael reminds him and Ray just snickers before following him out the door.

“Only _you_ can prevent forest fires.” Ray stage whispers as they walk down the walkway and Michael makes to cuff him over the head. There’s a hiss of pain, but Ray doesn’t retaliate.

“Knock it off, Narvaez. As a detective with the Austin PD, I order you to cease and desist.” But it’s no use; Michael knows when he’s lost.

“Fuck the police.” Ray states and then he’s off running and Michael doesn’t go after him because he has to get to the station like yesterday, but damn. Michael does not want to imagine a life without a shithead like Ray Narvaez Jr. as a friend.

_Mogar > BrownMan: Like I said, detective. Get yo factz straight son. Also ur not my type, too flowery. _

He sends the text before he starts his car and gets a reply nearly instantaneously.

_BrownMan > Mogar: the rose knows, Jones. The rose knows _

Michael scoffs at that and tosses his phone into the passenger seat next to him. He’s been driving for a little bit when, after stopping at a red light, he realizes he’s doing something he hasn’t done in a while.

He’s smiling on his way to work.

\---

**9:03 AM**

When Michael finally gets to work, the department is in a state of chaos. Desk jockeys are scurrying about, hands full of papers and faces drawn in serious expressions, and beat cops are rushing in and out leaving their desks looking like a tornado blew through the bullpen. As he makes his way to his desk, he looks around for anyone who can update him on what the hell is happening. Jack gave him what they had so far, but while the station is less than ten minutes away from his apartment a bunch of shit can happen in that small a time frame. A cursory glance tells Michael that Jack is obviously no longer in the building, most likely having gone off to work on the robbery case that’s been eating up all of his time, and a quick sweep tells Michael that Geoff is either shut up in his office or out doing god knows what.

When he reaches his desk he takes some time to look at the stacks of paperwork Geoff made him leave behind. Asshole may have ordered him to stay home today, but he obviously didn’t get anyone to take care of the least fulfilling part of police work. Slumping in his chair he gathers a sheaf of papers and skims over what looks like an autopsy report. Words like ‘strangulation’ and ‘trauma’ leap out at him from the page, gunning for his throat, but he isn’t as nearly affected as he could have been. He’s been kicking it with the Austin PD for four years now, after all. He’s seen some shit.

“Oh Michael, hey.” Michael doesn’t look up until he finishes the sentence he’d been reading, but when he does, the sight of Ryan at his desk greets him. ‘ _He must have just gotten back_ ,’ Michael thinks as he sits up and removes the strap of his messenger bag from his shoulder.

“Hey Rye-bread.” Michael responds and Ryan frowns at him briefly.

“I thought I told you to quit it with that name, Mogar.” Michael huffs, but he is unrepentant. Though Ryan is older, he’s still considered the “new guy” having been promoted to detective a year after Michael was transferred to Austin. Even Geoff took advantage of this fact from time to time.

“Hey, I’m proud of Mogar. It’s a powerful sounding name.” Ryan snorts at that, but sobers quickly.

“Well then, oh powerful Mogar, I need more than your power on this case. Think you could help me catch this son of a bitch?” Ryan asks and Michael doesn’t hesitate.

“Absolutely.”

Ryan smiles, but it’s flinty and lacking warmth. He focuses his attention on his desktop, the faint sound of mouse clicks reaching Michael’s ears and then there’s the sound of his printer going, its mechanical whirring punctuating the brief silence.

“All right then.” Ryan shifts his weight, rolls his chair closer to his printer, and picks up the inked pages. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

\--- 

**9:47 AM**

The drive to the crime scene is devoid of conversation that isn’t about the murder. The few times they stop at red lights, Ryan goes into detail about his thoughts, but his eyes stick to the road, only glancing at Michael when he’s speaking. Michael himself doesn’t give a fuck about the lack of attention. Ryan is a job oriented guy, capable and the department’s resident genius. He’s also got a wicked sense of humour and a talent for PC gaming that has Michael cursing a blue streak when he plays with him, but the cushion of friendship keeps things comfortable. It’s a darker part of Michael’s mind that thanks Ryan for being so closed lipped about the case from two years ago because there’s no doubt that it’s on the other’s mind.

Despite the fact that he’d been there, Ryan hadn’t seen _everything_. Michael knew that he was aware someone had died that day, but the older detective had never asked for details. Ryan was good like that. But it pained Michael that he felt exponentially glad that Ryan had learnt to stop asking questions like “are you okay?” or “do you need anything?” a month into the aftermath. Because that’s what all the time afterwards was; part of the aftermath. That and there was no way Michael could lie to himself and say he was going to forget what had happened. Even now, when he least expects it, Gavin’s face will enter his mind and Michael has no choice but to remember Gavin’s voice or the words he said before he jumped.

_“I’m sorry Michael…”_

He snaps back to reality when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Looking around, it dawns on him then that the car is still, engine silent. They’re at the crime scene, Michael’s stuttering mind provides and he closes his eyes. When he opens them he checks the radio for the time. Just past ten AM. Still a little out of it, the hand leaves his shoulder and Michael turns to see Ryan looking at him, eyes wide in concern. A hollow feeling begins to spread in Michael’s chest and he knows what it is right away. Guilt.

“Hey, Michael? You good to go?” Ryan asks and Michael blinks once, twice, three times before nodding his head jerkily.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He says, but Ryan puts his hand on Michael’s shoulder again and Michael can feel the warmth of his colleagues palm through his shirt. Before he can open his mouth to tell Ryan to let go, the other man’s hand is off and he’s getting out of the car. The door shuts with a careful click and Michael releases a breath he had no idea he’d been holding. He lets his head hang then lets it fall back against the seat’s headrest. Then his eyes close. A surge of gratitude has them squeezing shut tightly, and Michael takes a few gulps of air. The day’s heat has already claimed him, the back of his shirt clinging to his skin, but the warmth left behind by Ryan’s hand is pleasant, reassuring. A moment passes then another. When the clock reads ten minutes after ten Michael gets out of the car.

\---

**10:17 AM**

During his first months in Austin, Michael had been hesitant to talk to anyone. He’d been too busy being nervous about proving to others that he’d earned his promotion and hesitant about trying to get to know his coworkers better, to try to make friends outside of the department. But he was determined. His rationale was that at least getting to know the people he worked with would make his adjustment to Texas’ surprising kindness and the state’s acrid heat an easier pill to swallow. So Michael had worked and talked and asked questions, awkwardly joining the guys for drinks on days off, but something that became apparent to Michael during those times was that a family had been formed between cop and detective alike. And it was as if his arrival was adding another splash of drink in the mixer that held the cocktail of people that made up the downtown Austin PD. That didn’t stop him from trying of course. Though he’d felt like a displaced child moved from one school to another, he’d hunkered down because the fear of not fitting in, of making himself miserable with his incompatibility, was a legitimate one.

Four years later into his detective career and Michael can sympathize with Kerry and Chris, two rookies a couple years fresh out of the academy. It was one thing to be first responders to a petty crime, but taking on a case of homicide was a whole other clusterfuck of its own. But Michael can’t afford to delve in how sorry he feels for his younger coworkers, not with a serial killer on their hands if Ryan’s hunch is correct.

As they approach the crime scene, stray ends of the caution tape flutter in the breeze like hands waving them over. _Over here, over here, your dead body is here_ , they seem to say and Michael bites his lip. When Ryan lifts up the tape he says nothing, just steps under and gives him a nod of gratitude, Ryan nodding back, though Michael doesn’t see it. He’s got his eyes on the alley. Starting from the street, the alley gets darker and darker as he goes father in and it is in this darkness that he sees how it took so long for someone to find the body. Sandwiched between the restaurant and a used bookstore, the alley starts on the street Ryan has parked his car on, goes through a back lane, and ends at the street opposite. A quick check in this back lane tells Michael there’s enough shit disturbed and trash left behind for him to guess that people cut through it often during the day. Asking a passerby on the opposite street tells Michael hardly anyone at all goes through once night falls. Michael understands why. The bars are blocks away and anyone that does go through the alley is probably taking a shortcut home.

Now Michael has his attention on the brick wall of the restaurant that faces the alley, eyes roving, searching for any evidence his coworkers might have missed in the early morning. Meanwhile Ryan is questioning the busboy somewhere closer to the lip of the alley, farther from where the body had been found, and has opted to face himself and the kid towards the street in an effort to keep the kid settled. You didn’t have to work with the authorities to understand that finding a damn corpse while taking out the trash was enough to unsettle anyone. While Michael looks around, he keeps an ear open for Ryan’s voice, keeping himself aware of his fellow detective’s line of questioning.

“So we already have it confirmed that you found Miss Dane when you took out the trash earlier today.” Ryan asks to start and the kid just nods. A flash of sympathy gets Ryan frowning, and the feeling hangs around his neck like a weight, but he has a job to do. Resisting the urge to tap his pen against his note pad, Ryan rolls his shoulders, and then opens his mouth to continue gathering information.

“Could you tell me; before you entered the alley, did you hear anything? Anything that sounded like an argument or fighting?” Ryan’s voice isn’t terribly loud, but it carries down the alley where Michael is now crouched down by the spot where the girl was found.

“No.” The boy replies and Michael doesn’t have to imagine the shake in his voice.

The numbered plastic plaques outlining the position of her body are gone, but remnants of a body outline remain. The autopsy lists exsanguination as the cause of death, but there was too little blood found on the victim and not a trace found at the scene aside from slight disturbances of litter. Arms crossed and face painted with a scowl, Michael is understandably angry at all of this. It takes closing his eyes and breathing through his nose to keep himself from blowing up, but even then his pulse is racing. Running a hand through his hair, he trains his eyes on the outline again and runs through what he saw in the report along with what Joel told him and Ryan.

Joel had been explicit when he told them what he’d found. Aside from minute cuts, bruises, and abrasions the only major injuries two identical were incisions found in the girl’s jugular. Reports made by Kerry and Chris state that Lucinda Dane had all of her belongings on her when she was found, eliminating the possibility of a robbery gone wrong and furthering Ryan’s belief that a serial killer was at work.

“All right, thank you. Call us if you come up with anything else, okay?” Michael hears Ryan say and he resists a groan. Taking a final sweep of the alley, Michael heaves a sigh and makes his way to the lip of the alley.

“Sure thing, sir.” Michael hears the kid say and it reminds him of how young he is.

“Find anything the first responders may have missed?” Ryan asks as they head to the car and Michael shakes his head. When the silence continues Michael realizes Ryan must not have seen and is therefore still waiting for an answer.

“Not a fucking thing and it pisses me off.” Michael says and Ryan chuckles. Michael watches him as he unlocks the driver’s side, but doesn’t elaborate when he gets into the vehicle.

“Well at least you’re being honest.” His words tell Michael he’s joking, but Michael isn’t in the mood for jokes.

“Yeah, well honesty has given us fuck all.” Michael mutters and Ryan has nothing to say to that.

So the drive back to the station is equally as silent as the drive to the restaurant, and Michael is immensely grateful when Ryan turns on the radio saving Michael from having to apologize to his friend.

_‘It’s ten thirty five, the sun is shining and there are next to no clouds in the sky. Luckily this week will be cooler than the last, but keep your sunblock nearby, ‘cause it’s hot out there.’_

\---

**11:33 AM**

“God damn it!” The yell leaves Michael’s lips before he can rein it in and the sound of Ryan tapping away at his laptop stops. They’re in one of the conference rooms, they have to be what with the case being bigger than it initially was, and what they have is everywhere. Pictures of the victims are taped to a glass white board, paragraphs exhibiting what little Ryan had scraped together when he was working the case alone. Lucinda Dane is a new face on the board and it makes Michael’s stomach twist to think the asshole that killed her was the last to see her alive.

“Everything okay, Michael?” Ryan calls from the other side of the conference table and Michael blows out a frustrated breath before nodding. He pushes his chair away from the table outline and stands. Even after pushing himself away, he’s close enough to Ryan that he can see the man’s brows are drawn in concern. The guilt from before pushes its way to Michael’s throat and for a moment he can’t breathe.

“Yeah, it just pisses me off to think of how little we have. I mean, you did a lot of work on your own and you’re a goddamned genius, but all we have are fucking biographies courtesy of people who knew the victims.” Michael replies and he has to clench his jaw to stop himself from cursing. “Honestly, there were no prints or other identifying pieces of evidence and there wasn’t even any blood at the crime scene…” He trails off when it hits him. “ _Fuck me_.” Michael swears and slaps a hand to his forehead.

“Michael?” Ryan asks whatever he was doing on his laptop forgotten.

“We have three victims as of now, right?” Michael asks and Ryan simply nods. Ryan, of all people, understands that there is a method to Michael’s madness. Fighting the urge to thank him, Michael licks his lips and launches into his explanation. “Okay, so three bodies that have all turned up in alleyways in the downtown area. Do you have a map?” Ryan blinks at the sudden question and it takes a second, but he nods and leaves the conference room to get it.

When Ryan gets back Michael gives a nod of thanks then sets to opening it. While he struggles to unfold it, going any faster would tear it and Michael needs a fully legible map for him to get his idea off his back. Once he gets the map unfolded, he tacks it to a corkboard then steps back to look for what he needs. That done, Michael snatches a marker from a cup full of them on the conference table and uncaps it.

“Right, so who was the first victim and where were they found?” Michael asks over his shoulder and Ryan shuffles through folders until he finds what Michael’s asking for.

“Moira Lowe; went missing June fifteenth. She was found five days later in an alley near Neches and Fifth.” Ryan replies and Michael circles the location on the map.

“Second one?”

“Cassie Lafayette; last seen on the twenty eighth of June, found four days later near Trinity and Fourth.”

“And Lucinda was found in an alley near the intersection of Guadalupe and Fifth. Joel pegged her death somewhere around two to three days before she was found.” Michael says as he circles the last location before connecting the circles on the map into a triangle. “Look at the map now, Ryan. What do these locations have in common?” Michael’s tone urges Ryan to think and to think fast.

“They’re all within relative distance of the Speakeasy on Congress.” He blurts out after staring at the map for what feels like ages. The look on his face tells Michael he has more to say.

“Friends or family of the first two victims mentioned it when I questioned them. I hadn’t paid much attention to it, but took note of it just in case. You don’t think- _Fuck._ ” Ryan cuts himself off as the realization comes to him.

“Oh I hear ya, buddy. Christ this is like some airport bookstore crime novel.” Michael spits and his voice is strained, but there’s the glint of triumph in his eyes and Ryan flashes him a smile. He isn’t too far gone just yet.

“I suppose you could look at it that way.” Ryan offers as his eyes find the triangle on the map once more. “Now riddle me this Michael. If this is anything like a shitty novel does that mean we’ll get this done faster?”

“Fuck, I hope so, Ryan. I _really_ fucking hope so.”

\---

**12:10 PM**

Over half an hour later and both Ryan and Michael are consumed with the need to confirm their lead. Ryan is just getting off the phone with a friend of the recent victim when Geoff saunters into the conference room, heavy lidded blue eyes complimenting his smirk.

“All right assholes, there’s no way I’m risking getting in trouble with the DA, so I’m telling you to get out of here and get something to eat.” In the background Ryan is hanging up the phone while Michael plants his hands on the table and stands.

“But Geoff, we’re onto something right now we can’t just-”

“Nuh uh, no ‘buts’ jerkoff. Either you go or I kick you out. I know how Lindsay is about you working from home, and Ryan what would your wife say?” While Michael keeps his mouth closed, Ryan chuckles, his laughter ringing with defeat.

“She wouldn’t say anything, Chief. She’d straight up kick my ass.” Geoff laughs loudly at that, even going so far as to throw his head back. Any other day Michael would have laughed along, but not today.

“Geoff, seriously, I can’t leave now. Ryan and I are on to something and we-”

“Michael.” This time Geoff’s voice is sharp, sharper than Michael has heard it sound in a while and he can’t help but flinch. Though Geoff still maintains a sleepy expression, his blue eyes are dark.

“You’re gonna get something to eat. You can come back after you get something and eat while you work, but you are _not_ staying until you eat something. I fucking called you in while you were supposed to be off, don’t do this to me Jones.” Geoff’s tone is firm, fatherly, and worried and the guilt Michael felt from before doesn’t expand. This time it coils loosely around his neck like a noose that will choke him of its own accord.

“All right, okay fine, I’ll go. But I’m coming back.”

“I know Michael, just fucking go. _Please._ ” It’s the please that has Michael stalking out of the conference room, Ryan silent and fast on his heels.

They’re in the parking lot about to get into Ryan’s car, when Ryan finally opens his mouth.

“So, what do you feel like having? Jersey Mike’s or McDick’s?” He asks as he pulls open the driver’s door. Michael pauses, his hand curled to open the passenger door. He shrugs.

“Your car, your choice.”

“Okay, burgers via McDick’s drive through it is.” Though Michael is still holding on to his indignation, he shares a childish smile with Ryan as he starts the car.

\---

**12:26 PM**

Ryan’s smile dips when they get close to the nearest McDonald’s, pull into the parking lot and see that the drive through line is long enough to snake into the driveway. Michael is about to suggest they go to Jersey Mike’s instead, but Ryan’s next words keep him quiet.

“If it’s like this here, imagine the other place. It’ll be packed for sure.” It’s true. Usually Michael is better about taking breaks to eat so he hasn’t had to deal with lunch rushes for months, but then again, he hadn’t been working on a serial case. As if to punctuate the moment Michael’s stomach grow (it’s pitiful really) and he gnaws on his lips as he thinks for a moment.

“Wanna just drive downtown and find a café or something? Sure they’ll be in rush too, but they’re usually not as crowded as chain joints are.” Left hand still gripping the wheel, right hand free and tapping on the hard leather, Ryan is silent.

“Sure. Anything’s better than waiting around here.” Michael nods though Ryan can’t see it, but he doesn’t feel the need to say anything so the only thing that eats up the quiet is the sound of Ryan starting the engine again.

“We got less than an hour, but I’m guessing Geoff won’t wanna see us back at the station until much later.” Ryan remarks as the pull out of the lot and Michael agrees with him in his mind.

“You’re fucking creepy with your intelligent guesses, Haywood.” Michael says and Ryan practically cackles as they near downtown.

“You’re a real flatterer, Jones. Stop, you’ll make me blush.” Michael snorts.

“Shut up and drive Ryan, I’ll keep my eye out for sustenance.”

“Aye aye, sir. Ten four.”

“Fucking- shut up.” Ryan just laughs again.

The rest of the drive is silent save for the grumble of the engine of Ryan’s car and others on the road and the din of pedestrians outside. Despite having to come into work when he was supposed to be on break, it’s a nice day out and Michael is, for once, content. But something, something cold and dark, presses at the back of his mind and Michael comes to the decision to keep his wits about him. After all, all sorts of things can happen to fuck up a nice day.

\---

**12:32**

Michael can tell Ryan is close to making a hard stop and turning the car around so they can go back to the station and back to working in the case. Michael can’t exactly blame him though. All of the places that they thought would be relatively not busy are full and they’ve been driving for far too long. They’re pulled up behind a line of cars at a red light when Michael opens his mouth.

“I think we should just turn back. Wherever the fuck it is, everywhere seems to still be in rush, so why don’t we just-” Michael cuts himself off when he sees it. “Hold up. Ryan, what about that place?” Michael asks and points to when Ryan makes a questioning noise. From what he can see, it’s a small soup and sub place sandwiched between a Starbucks and a hair salon. Tables by the window are taken, but it doesn’t look too crowded.

“Sure, why not?” So Ryan manoeuvres the car in the least law breaking way possible and pulls it up by a meter. A minute goes by after Ryan sets it in park, but they don’t get out of the car.

“Ryan?” Michael asks when more than five minutes go by. The man in question doesn’t reply and the look on his face doesn’t belie what he’s feeling. Michael hates that. He’s hates it when people hide the truth from him, especially now that he’s a man of the law. But Ryan is a good guy, genuinely awesome, so Michael waits.

“You don’t have to, you know. You don’t have to work yourself into exhaustion like you have been the past few months.” Here Ryan takes pause, eyes closing and his hands on the go tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. “Jesus Michael, you’re usually so much better at taking care of yourself, but now it takes Geoff threatening to _suspend_ you for you to take even a day off work.” Here is where Ryan turns to look at him and Michael stares. There is real desperation in his colleague’s tone and frustration glinting in his eyes, but Michael can’t do a thing because this has been going on for two years and he sees no signs of it stopping. He resists the urge to curl into himself when Ryan starts up again.

“You need to stop doing this to yourself, man. Or it’s gonna kill you.” Ryan’s ultimatum is expected, but no less shocking. Michael gets it, though. He understands. But he doesn’t want to have this conversation now, doesn’t want to have it ever and the sound of him unbuckling his seat belt is so loud, too loud, he’s sure Ryan will catch on.

“I know that, Ryan. Don’t think I don’t. But right now isn’t the time to be worrying about me. Geoff might have kicked us out, but he’s gonna expect us to return some time.” Michael mutters the last words with a tone of finality. He’s out of the car before Ryan can say anything in response.

Before Michael enters the shop, he hears a car door slam.

“God damn it, Jones.” Ryan says into his ear when they line up. There are a few people ahead of them so Michael is wary of speaking, but Ryan’s continuous ignoring of his personal space tells Michael that he demands an answer for his unspoken question.

“Yell at me later, Haywood.” And that’s the end of the conversation.

After telling the person working the counter what he wants, after paying, after waiting at the designated side for his food, after waiting for Ryan, Michael, arms laden with a Styrofoam container of the grand old classic chicken noodle and a BLT with more B less T, in the process of leaving, almost literally runs into someone he could have gone without seeing today.

“Michael? What’re you doing here; I thought you were with Ray?” Lindsay’s face swims into Michael’s vision and his breath catches, but Ryan, unwittingly or wittingly depending, saves him from speaking.

“Hey Lindsay. We’re just getting something to eat before we get back to work.” Lindsay’s eyes flick to Ryan, but are back on Michael in less than a heartbeat.

“Work? I thought you were off today.” Her voice is devoid of warmth, and Michael’s heart aches for doing this to her.

“He was, but he needed to be called in.” Ryan replies, and in the corner of Michael’s eye, Ryan stands tall, but even he isn’t well equipped to deal with a, justifiably, pissed off Lindsay.

“And what the fuck was so damn urgent that he needed to be called in from a break he was _ordered_ to take?”

“A murder case, Linds.” Michael says softly, because they are outside the conference room, outside the station and there are civilians a plenty in this shop and there is no reason to cause panic about a case Michael is sure he and Ryan have under (relative) control.

“But you’ve dealt with similar cases before, why do they need you-” Michael cuts her off.

“But never a serial case. Lindsay, don’t tell me that I should stay home and play video games when people are going missing and turning up dead.” He hates telling her about his job, especially at times like this. In his old position back in Jersey he’d get shit from his chief for talking about a case in public, but Geoff, good old Geoffrey, has kindly allowed those of the Austin PD to let details slip if needed. That doesn’t make Michael hate it any less.

“So why don’t you get the FBI to take over? You haven’t had a proper day off in a while. Why-” This time Ryan fields her question, for which Michael is tremendously grateful.

“We can’t, at least, not yet. Until it breaches state borders, we can’t involve another agency unless Geoff invites them in or is superseded by the DA.”

“I fucking hate politics.” Lindsay hisses and Michael smiles sadly at her.

“It’s not politics Lindsay, it’s procedure.” Lindsay’s glare is near venomous.

“Well then, I hate procedure.”

“You and me both.” Ryan says and he flinches when Lindsay turns her glare on him for a split second before it softens.

Parting is awkward. Ryan goes on ahead to the car while Michael stays behind. He and Lindsay move off to the side, both agreeing that a topic like murder shouldn’t be talked about where everyone can hear. That and Geoff, and Caleb, had been vehement that nothing about the case was to leak out. Ryan remembered that conversation well.

_It’s a week after Ryan had been put on the case, and Geoff had called him into his office to talk. About what he didn’t really know, but he had a feeling. When he gets there, he’s surprised to see Caleb taking up one of the chairs in front of Geoff’s desk. The feeling doesn’t last long when Geoff comes in, aggression tainting his demeanour._

_“So enlighten me as to why you don’t want this,” He gestures to a folder he has open on his desk, “to go to the press.” Geoff asks after Ryan gets settled in his chair. His words are painted with such an air of disregard that Ryan can only turn his head to watch for Caleb’s reaction like he’s watching a tennis match._

_“As of now, we have no concrete details. If we let this out and something changes, what does that say about the reliability of the department?” Caleb asks in turn and Geoff’s face turns stormy._

_“Things change all the time, the public surely knows that!” Geoff argues, but Caleb is shaking his head._

_“But we’re the arms of the law. Our duty is to serve the public, but if we let this information out it could cause panic. What’ll they do if they hear about someone going around killing people without leaving a trace of evidence? How do you think they’ll react to that?”_

_“We wouldn’t tell them about the lack of evidence.” Geoff fires back, but Caleb won’t back down._

_“But they’re going to ask about it, you know they will. It’d be better to let this fly under the radar for as long as you can. If it gets out, it gets out and we’ll deal with the consequences. But as it stands, if we let the public know that a dangerous killer is running around taking lives with only bodies to show for it, we’re going to be in much more trouble than we are now.”_

_Geoff slams his hands down onto his desk and Ryan jumps in his seat. During their exchange he’d simply been watching, but right now it looks as if Geoff is going to ask him for his opinion._

_“God damn it, Caleb.” Is what he says instead and Ryan tries his best not to show how his chief’s anger has alleviated his apprehension. When he looks, Caleb is watching Geoff shrewdly, as if he knew Geoff would take his council._

_“Fine, we’ll keep quiet about the investigation. But if it gets out, it’s on you to fix things, we clear on that?”_

_“Yes sir, absolutely crystal.”_

_Geoff basically banishes them both after that. Caleb returns to his office and Ryan goes back to the conference room where he’d set up and where pictures of the girls that had been killed watched him work. Both Caleb and Geoff were right._

_They could do everything they could to prevent the public catching wind of the murders. But if they did, there was nothing they could do but deal._

\---

**12:38 PM**

Talking with Lindsay is usually a breeze. But right now it’s fucking painful to try and explain, but Michael has to talk to Lindsay, needs to because she’s already done so much for him and she deserves more than the “duty calls” brush off. The need to get her to fuck off is great, but he wants to do it gently. But Lindsay is a god damn firework and her fuse is right next to Michael’s flame.

Taking advantage of Michael’s hesitance, she doesn’t waste time and goes straight into laying into him. Her words are shallow, but they cut in all the places that get Michael hurting.

“You said you wouldn’t work today. You fucking promised that you wouldn’t, yet here you are on a lunch break. I bet Geoff had to kick your ass out of there so you’d leave. He did, didn’t he?” It’s phrased like a question, but it’s an obvious statement because Lindsay knows her shit. Michael answers her anyway.  

“I did. I did promise, but do you think I would just stand by and let others get hurt?” Lindsay’s eyes go wide and Michael knows he’s fucked up, again, but he can’t talk over her, can’t jump to his defense. He’s already toed the line by leaving his apartment, hell he’s obliterated the line by not keeping his word, he might as well go full tilt and make it seem like the line never existed. That requires finesse, though, finesse which Michael does not have.

“Don’t you fucking put this on me. All I’m saying is that you deserve to rest Michael, you deserve to kick up your heels and play round after round of a mindless game with your best friend, but instead you choose to shoulder this responsibility on a back that’s fit to break! You-”

“Look at it this way, I already broke one important promise, what’s another?” Michael interjects and he can tell that if Lindsay weren’t in public, she’d be screaming her head off at him. Her decision not to is more than he deserves.

“Michael…”

“I may not have said it directly, but the moment I got up there I made a promise that I’d get him down alive. But I fucked that one up royally didn’t I?” Lindsay doesn’t speak, and there’s been a lot of that, a lot of silence and not using words to communicate. Thing is, Michael isn’t sure if he should be clamoring for a chance to get his point across, or grateful that he doesn’t need to speak because he is absolute shit with words. Or at least, he’s shit with words that don’t result in screaming matches, hoarse throats, clenched hands, and cracked hearts.

“That wasn’t your fault Michael. I’ve said it, Geoff’s said it, everyone you work with has said it and I’ll say it again. It wasn’t your fault.” Her tone rings with finality and Michael grits his teeth because he can’t refute her. Two years into the aftermath and he can see it in the eyes of everyone at the station. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Michael.’ ‘You can’t save everyone, Michael.’

“Did you push him off?” Lindsay asks and Michael snaps his gaze to hers and for several moments they just stare. And stare. It’s Michael who breaks away first while Lindsay sighs.

“No, I didn’t, but I might as well have.”

“Michael…”

“See you later Linds.”

And then Michael’s leaving. He slides out of the booth and gathers up his lunch. The soup is long gone cold, but nuking it in the microwave in the break room back at the station will solve that problem.

Lindsay doesn’t follow after him and he hates that he’s relieved by that, but the plastic handles of the bag that carries his food bite into his fingers as the bag twists and his heart feels like it’s going to burst, but he has to keep moving. Everything about him is screaming at him to leave, leave, leave. As he shoves the shop door open and heads to the car, he wraps his arms around himself, hoping to god that his body language can be understood. Luckily, when he gets into shotgun, Ryan reads the mood and just goes to start the engine as Michael buckles himself in and settles his bag between his feet so he can keep his arms around himself for the ride. It disgusts Michael, the state he’s in, it makes him sick to his stomach that he‘d rather maintain silence while he licks his wounds, tail quivering between his legs, but it’s his lot now and the proverbial soil beneath his feet is caught in permafrost as he stops trying to feel.

When Michael and Ryan arrive at the department parking lot, Ryan engages the locks before Michael can leave. Michael wants to scream, wants to yell at Ryan to let him go, but he can feel Ryan’s need to speak so he just unbuckles his belt and waits. Luckily he doesn’t have to wait long.

“This is the plan. We’re gonna go to the break room and reheat our food and then we’re gonna eat our food and then we’re gonna go back to work. Sound good?” Michael doesn’t deny that he’s surprised that Ryan makes no mention of his talk with Lindsay. After all, the man is tactful like a ballerina is graceful, and he wouldn’t put it past the other man to wait until they were well away from the shop to talk.

“Sounds good.” Michael says instead of voicing his thoughts and the tension from before eases a little. Ryan flashes him a smile.

“Okay then, let’s head in.”

Once in the building Ryan heads for the break room while Michael lags behind. The light is on in the office next to Geoff’s so Jack’s returned but the chief himself is smack dab in the middle of the bullpen, pinning down Michael with a sleepy lidded stare. Geoff doesn’t say a word, doesn’t come up to Michael to reprimand him for being late or ask what took him and Ryan so long and Michael gets the feeling that Geoff knows. Some paranoid part of him thinks Lindsay may have called and relayed the situation to his boss, but when Geoff leaves him alone as he heads to the break room, the more rational part of his brain tells him that no, Lindsay wouldn’t do that.

 _‘But can you be so sure?’_ Michael’s mind asks and he freezes before the break room door.

“No, I actually can’t.”

\---

**4:21 PM**

Hours later and Ryan and Michael are still at it. When Ryan leaves the conference room to make some coffee he finds the bullpen slightly less populated than before, others in the midst of packing and Ryan hopes they all get some rest. With Brandon and Jordan chasing down an arsonist and Jack working pretty much alone on a robbery, Ryan can’t help but feel tied down. The department is being stretched to its limits and though Ryan has the utmost faith in it capabilities, a line has to be drawn somewhere.

The halls are deserted when he heads to the break room. When he reaches it the lights are off and he stops at the door to feel around for the switch, the lights flickering for a moment when they turn on. He wastes no time in striding to the coffee maker, opening it up to replace the filter. Once that’s done he takes the coffee pot so he can get water. The tap squeaks when he twists it on and he fills the carafe with as much water as it can take without overflowing. Ten cups, almost eleven, enough to sustain the extra hours he and Michael are gonna put in tonight before they leave. At least that’s what he predicts.

As the machine gurgles Ryan leans against the counter, folds his arms against his chest and lets his head hang. He’s pretty tired; his shoulders heavy and eyelids drooping and when his eyes close he can see words from the reports he’s compiled while working on this case. He’s been on it since day one, since the first body turned up found by a garbage man, but he’d been getting nowhere. Michael’s been on the case for less than a day and he’s already found a major lead. Ryan’s eyes open. He hears the coffee machine click, but he doesn’t move; he’s paralyzed. He’s angry, at himself for not connecting the dots, at Geoff for not getting him help on the case sooner, and he’s angry at Michael for two reasons, his prowess and his utter refusal to let himself relax.

Time after time Ryan’s seen the younger detective stay late, and he’s seen the resulting bags and bruises under Michael’s eyes so often that he barely remembers what he looks like without them. As a father, and friend, it hurts to see someone he cares for ignore their health like that and there have been many a time where he wants to seize Michael by the shoulders and shake some sense into the younger man. And Ryan clearly isn’t the only one. He sees a similar instinct in Geoff, in Jack who has his family, which included a beautiful wife, who he’d die to protect. Everyone Ryan has ever worked with has that protective instinct, but his understanding that Michael’s stubbornness outweighs his sense of self-preservation is greater. Ryan wants to help, he really does, but Michael needs to take the first step to help himself.

“Hey man you’ve been gone a while, how much coffee are you making?” A voice brings him out of his fog and Ryan looks up to see Michael standing in the doorway.

“Just enough to keep us for a couple hours. We’ve got a lot of work to do and I don’t want to take any of it home.” He admits and Michael chuckles.

“I hear you, but I was actually thinking of heading home in a bit. I thought I could catch some sleep and then come into work early, you know?” At that Ryan is genuinely surprised. The only people that go home later than Michael are Geoff and Jack, what with their respective positions as chief and deputy. If Michael were working any old nine to five job, he’d get clocked for his overtime.

“Really?” Ryan asks a little doubtful, and Michael nods. “Okay then, but you’re gonna help me finish off this pot because I sure as hell can’t do it on my own.” Ryan gestures to the finished brew and Michael nods again.

“Sure thing Rye-bread.” He says and Ryan gives him a look.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Yeah well, when have I ever listened to what anyone’s told me?” Michael asks and Ryan’s heart drops.

 _‘You used to listen all the time.’_ Says Ryan’s mind and his neutral expression nearly falters. “Just a few minutes ago when I told you to help me finish the coffee.” He says aloud and Michael laughs.

“Fuck, I guess you got me there.” Michael admits and Ryan forces a grin. Stretching his face into a smile when he feels anything but happy is difficult. Ryan powers through though because he’s tactful.

“You fucking bet I did.” Ryan smirks and Michael huffs a laugh.

The coffee lasts a little over an hour between the two of them and when Michael tells Ryan that he wants to leave the conference room as is so he can get an early start the next day, Ryan just smiles and nods, but his smile quickly fades once Michael’s back is turned. As Michael goes on ahead to the bullpen to get his stuff Ryan stays behind and takes a sweep of the conference room taking in the stacks of folders and errant papers, his eyes coming to rest on the map and the locations circled on it. His jaw becomes sore as he clenches his teeth. Three women went missing and three bodies were found drained of blood. He can barely say why, but he has his suspicions that another is going to turn up, he just doesn’t know when.

He takes a deep breath and gives his head a shake. As the last to leave the room he shuts off the light and his and Michael’s marginal progress is bathed in darkness. Tomorrow will be another day, but he does not know what it will bring.

\---

**5:43 PM**

Before Michael gets into his apartment he rests his head on the cool wood of his front door. When he digs into his pocket for his keys he clutches them so tightly that an indentation of his key ring is left in his hand. He does not let out a breath of relief when he finally unlocks the door and steps inside. He does not rest his back against the shut door and slide down to the floor and does not bring his knees to his chest and wrap his arms around them so he can rest his head. And he most certainly does not feel tears pricking his eyes or a scream ready to burst from his throat, but who the fuck is he kidding? His heart is thudding in his chest like a jack hammer and an ache makes itself at home in his head.

Michael gets up slowly like his limbs are numb and his body weighs far more than it actually does, and when he makes it to his feet he has to cling to the wall to stay upright. A blinking red light catches his attention. Someone must have called him while he was away at work.

 _‘You have two new messages.’_ An automated voice reports and after a couple of button presses Lindsay’s voice can be heard.

_“Hey Michael, look I just wanted to call and say sorry. I know you won’t be home until later, but I wanted to apologize before work gets hectic again. We’re working on a major project and I don’t know if I can be over as often until we’re done, so- Ah fuck, yeah I’ll be there in a sec Miles, I just gotta, yeah… I’ll talk to you when I can Michael. Good luck with the case. Love you.”_

_‘End of message. To play the next message please press-’_

_“Sup, Mogar, it’s your favourite BrownMan here. So it fucking sucked that we couldn’t hang out today, but duty calls, am I right? Ah, anyways, catch you when you’re free, okay? I can totally come over another day to kick your ass at Halo, Call of Duty, whatever game you got. See you when I see you man.”_

_‘You have no more new messages. To hear your messages again, please press-’_ Michael hangs up before the voice can continue.

For a while he just stands there in front of his phone, hand still on the receiver, but his eyes are unfocused, trained on the wall in front of him one moment, looking down at his feet the next. Short of shaking himself back to reality, he lets go of the phone and stumbles to the kitchen intent on getting something into his stomach before he turns in. When the fridge yields nothing, nothing that he can’t make in less than ten minutes, he closes the door and opens the freezer. A lone microwave dinner box lies amidst the ice trays and other frozen foodstuffs he hasn’t brought himself to defrost and make a meal of. The cold air of the freezer chills him as he stares at the box, colourful packaging hardly appealing, but Michael is tired, exhausted really, and the quicker he can feed himself the better. He yanks the box out and shuts the freezer door with a shoulder.

Setting his soon to be dinner on the counter he takes the time to roll up his sleeves and then flip the box over to check for instructions. He’s in the middle of a case and can’t afford getting sick because he didn’t cook some shitty TV dinner properly. Four and half minutes later the microwave beeps and Michael roots through a drawer for a fork. When he pulls back the film from the container steam immediately rises and fogs up his glasses, but he isn’t entirely bothered. Container of microwaved pasta in hand he’s about to head to the living room when he swallows and his throat clicks.

He goes into the living room and sets his food on the coffee table, but goes back to the kitchen and returns with a beer and a bottle opener. His throat is dry and he doesn’t wanna get drunk per se, but a slight buzz would be pretty fucking nice. When he gets back to the living room he all but collapses into his couch and just sits for a bit, head falling back and eyes falling closed. He hasn’t bothered to turn on any of the lights in his apartment, but the sun is still up and shining brightly though his window and won’t be setting for at least four more hours. Eyes still closed he slaps a hand around in search of the TV remote and he opens his eyes only after he has it in hand. Still not inclined to sit up straight he adjusts his position into one that’s more comfortable before clicking the TV on. An ad for dish soap has Michael immediately disinterested and he changes it to some movie about some girl moping about because her freaky vampire boyfriend left her. After taking in as many pale faces and cheap looking red contacts as he can, Michael sits up and starts eating his dinner. It tastes better than he thought it would, noodles chewy and sauce tangy, but that’s probably just the exhaustion talking. Grabbing the plastic dish and lifting it up, he eyes the box his dinner came in and contemplates the packaging. It’s some kind of pasta with a name he can’t be assed to try and pronounce out loud, but he makes a mental note to get some more next time he goes shopping for groceries.

It’s sad, Michael thinks, that making a note to buy more food so he won’t starve makes him feel like he has his life together.

Ten minutes later and Michael finishes his pasta. Ten minutes after that he’s finished his beer and fifteen minutes later he’s fast asleep sprawled out on his couch, sorry excuse for a romance movie over and the credits rolling.

\---

**Tuesday, July 16 th, 3:18 AM**

Still somewhat fresh from the academy, Kerry has no idea what to think as he responds to another call about a dead body in an alley. After the first one, he’s hoping this one is just the result of some drunken asshole imagining things or some junkie hallucinating because they’re high. Chris’ tight grip on the steering wheel of the cruiser tells him no, this is not a false alarm, this is the real deal. But that doesn’t make him feel better, doesn’t make him feel proud to be in on the action and helping with what he knows is a major case. It makes him feel sick and nauseous just thinking about it, but he knows he can’t do anything about it.

“This is my least favourite part of the job.” He says as Chris makes a turn. Their objective is just two blocks away.

“You and me both man, you and me both.”

\---

**3:36 AM**

When Michael wakes up, he takes a minute to wonder where he is. As he sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, pain flares in his lower back and he realizes that he’s in his living room. The TV is still on, an ad for sandwich bags is playing and Michael blinks blearily as his eyes adjust. It’s then that it dawns on him that it’s still dark as dicks in his apartment. He’s awake, but the sun hasn’t fucking risen yet. Though his arms feel like dead weights he brings them up in a stretch while a yawn cracks his jaw open and forces his eyes shut. When he opens them his gaze finds the clock mounted on the wall and he has to squint to see the time.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Before he can grouse about the early hour any further, his cell rings and he hauls himself from the couch to pick it up from the charging station.

 _“Michael, you need to get down here. Another body’s been found.”_ Comes Geoff’s familiar voice and Michael leans on the kitchen counter cradling his head in one hand while the other holds the phone to his ear.

“Jesus, really?” His voice comes out a bit snappish, but Geoff goes on like he doesn’t notice.

 _“Yeah. Our rookies responded to the call a little while ago. It wasn’t pretty.”_ His chief explains and Michael barely refrains from scoffing.

“Murders aren’t usually renowned for their beauty, Geoff.” Michael retorts and he expects Geoff to spit something back, but all he gets is deep breathing down the line.

 _“You know how the others were virtually spotless when they were found?”_ Geoff asks and Michael already does not like where the conversation is going. That gets Michael worrying.

“Yeah…”

 _“Well this time it looks like the bastard tried to paint the alley red_.” Jesus. Michael’s eyes close and he runs his free hand over his face. Fucking. Shit.

“I’ll- I’m coming in, I’ll be there, just give me a bit. You called Ryan, right? He’s running primary on this case after all.” Geoff takes another shuddering breath on his end of the call.

 _“Yeah, yeah, I called you right after I was done with talking with him. He said he was on his way.”_ Good, because as much as Michael wants to take this case by the reins, Ryan’s been on it since inception and since he was a kid watching procedural drama after procedural drama till the sun came up, he’s always hated office politics. It won’t do anyone any good if he steps on Ryan’s toes.

“Okay. See you there then.” Michael says and he can hear the relief in Geoff’s voice when he replies,

 _“See you.”_ And then Geoff hangs up without preamble and Michael is left alone in the dark.

After a few minutes of letting all the new information sink in, Michael pads back to the living room and flicks on the lights before turning the TV off. The remote clatters when he drops it on the coffee table.

Remnants of last night’s dinner still remain so he picks up the tray and his fork and his empty beer bottle and tosses the tray in the trash, the fork in the sink and bottle in the recycling. He then makes his way to his bathroom to freshen up. Falling asleep on the couch granted him dreamless sleep, but Michael still bets he looks like death warmed up. His suspicion is confirmed when he looks into the mirror above his sink. He’s only twenty eight, but his frown, the bags under his eyes and his eyes themselves make him look even older than Geoff.

Twisting the cold water tap to a temperature he thinks he can bear at ass o’ clock in the morning, Michael cups his hands under the flow and splashes his face with the water. He’s still tired enough to let his head hang in his hands, but the exhaustion is already waning. Twisting the tap off, he keeps his head bowed as water drips from his face to the sink. He braces himself on the edges, cold porcelain nearly numbing the pain he feels when he grips tighter.

“Keep yourself together, Jones, you just gotta head into work again. You planned on going in early anyways, what’s a few hours before that?” He brings his head up to look at his reflection again. Sad brown eyes stare back so he squeezes them shut and slaps the palms of his hands to his cheeks. Feeling a little more awake he goes to his room to change his shirt. Back in his living room, he grabs his shit, shuts off the lights and leaves. He curses when he fumbles with his keys as he locks his door and curses again when he stalls himself looking for his phone when it’s been in his pocket since he stepped outside.

“Fuck!” He doesn’t have the time, doesn’t have the luxury, but it feels good to scream, to let out his pent up emotions in the best way he knows how. “Fuck…” He says again, weaker this time as his anger and frustration leave him. What takes their place is a hardened resolve, motivation to catch the perpetrator and have him behind bars. Michael has always had a vivid imagination, the image of some fuck in cuffs getting sentenced has him moving to his car with purpose.

When he pulls his car out of the lot he catches himself smiling again, only for a different reason.

“We’re gunning for you, you sick fuck. And we’re gonna get you.”

\---

**4:01 AM**

A dark cloud pulls over Michael’s head when he arrives at the station. Thunder begins to rumble when he gets inside the building and all the lights in the hallway are off. Guided by the light of a flashlight app on his phone, he breathes a sigh of relief when he reaches the bullpen and the darkness ends. But there is no one present but Geoff who is sitting on the steps to the ‘second level’ of the bullpen. His head is hung low and his hands are gripped in his hair.

“This is all where it goes to shit, ain’t it?” Michael asks as he approaches and when Geoff looks up his usually perpetually sleepy eyes are wide like he hasn’t slept. Michael has only a lick of sympathy for him, and most of that goes to his wife and kid.  

“Fucking understatement, I’ll tell you that much.” He says then buries his face in his hands. “Ryan said he’ll be here in a bit. Also Joel wants to talk to you about your body.” Geoff’s voice is muffled, but Michael’s heard him clearly. His throat clicks as he swallows.

“It’s hardly _my_ body, Geoff.” He says as tension runs rampant. Geoff scoffs behind his hands and Michael can see his teeth bared behind his fingers.

“It became your body when you agreed to work on the case.”

“I didn’t exactly agree. You fucking ordered me to take a day off but then you ordered me to come in and I couldn’t say no, could I? And, if anything, it’s _our_ body. Yours, mine, and Ryan’s.” Geoff chuckles at that, but it’s a pathetic sort of laughter. He looks like a fucking wreck hunched over on the steps, but Michael only feels his anger and frustration returning to him.

“I suppose that means you want me on this too.” Geoff’s voice cracks and, for once, Michael thinks darkly, it fits the circumstances.

“No, I want you to do whatever the fuck you think is right.” He steps away from his chief and turns to the main entrance and exit of the bullpen. “I’m going to see Joel; you think you can manage to let me know when Ryan gets here?”

“Yeah, I’ll come get you, just go.” Michael feels another stab of sympathy, but he has to go. He can’t stand around gabbing with Geoff, there just isn’t time.

“See you then.” Michael says and then he leaves and his last sight of Geoff is the man still sitting on the steps, head in his hands.

Michael says hello to his old friend the dark once more when he walks down to the morgue. The sounds of his shoes clicking on the floor, the rustling of his clothing as he moves, and the beating of his heart are the loudest things he hears. When he gets to the morgue Joel is nowhere to be seen, but a sign taped to the curtain Joel uses to section off the autopsy table reads ‘the doctor is IN’ so he knows he doesn’t have to go looking.

“Hey man, Geoff said you wanted to talk to me?” It’s just after four in the morning, Michael is too awake for his liking, but he’s desperate enough to make today less painful for everyone.

“Ha ha, I’ve never heard that one before. You’re a riot Jones, are you sure police work is the right job for you?” Joel panders as he comes out from behind the curtain, arms raised and covered to the elbows in gloves. Michael’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t laugh.

“Give me a break man, I woke before the ass crack of dawn and then Geoff called me and told me we had another body. I’m just taking every opportunity I can to be the asshole I am.” Michael fires back and Joel’s face takes on a sullen expression, he fucking pouts, but the glint in his eyes tell a different story.

“Yeah, yeah I do. Should I be worried?” Joel smirks and Michael’s brow furrows.

“Oh, fuck you Joel.” Michael grumbles and Joel clicks his tongue.

“Now Michael, while you may be a very good looking man, as well as a man that I get along with splendidly, I’m afraid with how far apart we are in ages, it wouldn’t do very well for us to get together.” Joel speaks as if he’s letting Michael down easy and has a hand on his heart like it pains him to speak. As such, though he’s inside a morgue where a dead body lays less than six feet away from him, Michael laughs.

“So the only thing deterring you is my age?” His brow quirks and Joel bares his teeth in a grin and nods.

“Mm, that and the fact that I don’t completely swing that way, but yes, your age is pretty much a deal breaker for me.” Michael cracks up at that.

“Shit Joel. You didn’t say that about the woman you took to dinner last month. She was what, ten years younger than you? That’s only five years older than me, dude.” At that Joel’s lips thin, but his eyes still hold mirth.

“True, but women mature at a different rate than we males do, Michael.” His head tilts condescendingly and Michael rolls his eyes.

“I learned that shit in school, Joel, you don’t need to tell me.”

“Sure, sure, now do want to see her or not?”

“The woman you took to dinner or-”

“The victim.” Joel deadpans and the light atmosphere brought on by their conversation vanishes. Right, here to see a dead woman, Michael reminds himself. He licks his lips then nods and Joel makes a grand sweeping gesture with his right arm and Michael rounds the curtain.

The woman on the table is like the others; in her early to mid-twenties, pretty and, this is arguably the most important part, dead. The only difference is that her neck looks like a rabid animal savaged her in the woods. But this is downtown Austin and the nearest woods are hours away. Michael frowns.

“Are the wounds on her neck the most serious she has?” Michael asks as he Joel pulls back the tarp to show how far the wounds go. After slipping some gloves onto his own hands, Michael takes a look the scribblings Joel has made. ‘Lana Forde: two near identical gashes on jugular, approximately two inches long and an inch deep’ say Joel’s notes and Michael’s frown curves deeper.

“Yes. Any other injuries include scrapes and bruising just like the other girls.” Michael looks back to the body. This girl was like the others but looked like she got the short end of the stick. There was a cut along her cheek, bruising around her neck and crescent shaped cuts on her shoulders.

“Geoff said her killer tried to paint the alley red, was there really that much blood left behind?” Michael asks looking to Joel and the pathologist hums.

“Hmm, no not nearly as much from what I saw in crime scene photos, but there was significantly more than before.” His tone is off handed, clinically casual, but that’s not what irritates Michael.

“Well no shit there was significantly more; the previous crime scenes were virtually spotless.”

“He must have killed this poor girl where she was found.” Joel says and Michael takes pause.

“That makes it a crime of opportunity then. The others were picked up at the Speakeasy and found a couple blocks away.” When Michael looks to Joel, the man has a puzzled expression on his face.

“But so was she. What does that mean then?” When he can’t think of an answer right away, Michael looks away from him and folds his arms over his chest as he thinks. The conclusion he comes to is a grim one.

“He must have struck out at his usual hunting ground and picked her off the street.” He muses aloud and hears the sound of Joel’s teeth clicking together. 

“If that’s the case, then he’s already escalated. Picking up victims at a bar isn’t doing it for him anymore.” Joel’s words make Michael’s blood run cold. Though Joel was a pathologist, he’d had several ‘run ins’ with FBI profilers, enough run ins to get him thinking and talking like one when it came to cases.

Outside of work, Michael would always take what Joel said with a grain of salt, but while at the station, while in the lab, in Joel’s domain, there was little reason to doubt what came out of his mouth. For a moment Michael feels like his legs will give out, but he ignores the need he feels to place a stabilizing hand on the table with the body. Reason one being that no one needs him keeling over in the morgue, and reason two being that there is _a body_ on the table. Michael was once a cop and now he’s a detective, he’s seen dead people before, handled dead bodies before, but something about this girl, something about the way she was killed sets his instincts on overdrive, his hair on the back his neck standing on end because he feels genuine terror.

“Jesus, shit just keeps hitting the fan.” Michael breathes out eventually. Though his breaths are slow and measured, he can feel his pulse racing and the only thing keeping him from screaming is Joel’s presence. But even that isn’t doing much. He needs to leave the morgue, needs to be in the conference room so he can work things out, he just needs to be gone. He isn’t even in a dangerous situation and he feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Michael?” Michael turns around when he hears his name and his eyes land on Geoff. Seeing him in the light of the morgue makes him look even more pallid than he did in the bullpen, but his eyes are still wide, still alert. For some reason, the mere sight of him is reassuring. No, not reassuring. Comforting? Michael doesn’t know the word for it, doesn’t know why, but Geoff has always been good at calming him and others down. Even if he intended to, Michael has no time to question it. So he takes a breath and looks his chief in the eye. 

“Ryan’s here I take it?” Michael inquires and Geoff nods.

“He’s in the conference room with Chris and Kerry.” That bit of information catches Michael off guard for a moment before his brain catches up and provides him with a reason. He turns back to Joel then glances at the body a final time.

 _‘She was twenty four years old, just a few years younger than you.’_ Michael closes his eyes, but he still sees her, her face burned into his eyelids.

“Let’s go then. See you around, Joel?” Michael asks before he leaves.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you if I find anything else out.”

“Thanks.”

\---

**4:46 AM**

The lights in the hallway are on now so Michael has no problem going off to the conference room alone. But Geoff looks like he’s headed in the same direction so he maintains pace with him, the sound of their shoes impacting with the floor nearly in sync and echoing off the walls. Michael is far from scared of being in the station before the sun rises, but there is something undeniably eerie about large, nearly empty buildings.

Michael is incredibly used to holding conversations with Geoff in and outside of work. They talk and talk and talk about things they have in common, things they don’t, but currently, Geoff is being abnormally quiet. The only time he’s ever seen Geoff like this was during the week after Gavin had jumped. The silence makes Michael want to say something, anything to eradicate the increasingly uncomfortable lack of conversation, but Geoff beats him to it.

“I’m gonna work with you on this case.” He says and Michael just nods.

“Okay then. Will you be taking primary?”

“No, Ryan’s already on point with everything and you’re on it as well. I’m just coming on as extra man power.” Michael nods again.

“What about Jack? He’s handling a string of robberies on his own.”

“Jack can take care of himself. He’s got a bunch of officers on it with him too, so there’s nothing much to worry about.”

“You really wanna work on this case, any reason for that?” Michael asks and Geoff stops walking. They’ve already diverged from the main corridor and are now in the short hallway that leads to the conference room. Just a few more steps will get them where they need to be, but Geoff isn’t budging. Michael has been looking ahead of himself the entire time, but when he looks to Geoff he finds the man staring back and his cool gaze unnerves him.

“Should I really have to justify why I want to take on a case?”

“Yes actually, you do, considering you have the department’s resident genius and apparent best detective on it.” Geoff’s eyes narrow but Michael stands his ground. Geoff is his chief, his superior, but at the end of the day the two of them are friends and Michael has no qualms about meeting Geoff blow for blow should it come to that.

“Four women are dead, one of which had her throat in ruins.” Michael just raises a brow.

“This case is bigger than I thought it was and I want to help stop the body count from getting higher than it already is. Is that enough justification for you?” Michael nods a third time.

“Good, let’s get to work then.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

\---

**6:21 AM**

“Michael, you remember from the report that the previous two were discovered by trash collectors, correct?” Ryan asks suddenly and Michael nods hesitantly. They’ve been at this for hours and the dozen mugs of coffee Michael has had are doing nothing to keep him awake. A yawn cracks his jaw open as, Kerry, one of the first responding officers speaks.

“Yeah, but Lucinda…”

“Lucinda Dane was found early.” Ryan states and Michael shifts his gaze to his fellow detective before flicking back to Kerry. Though it doesn’t show on his face, Michael feels sympathy for how shocked the kid looks.  

“Early?” He asks and Ryan nods.

“Yes. I pulled up the refuse collection schedule when it dawned on me. Lowe and Lafayette were found on pick up days and Dane would have as well if the busboy hadn’t gone out into the alley to take out the trash.”

“So this fucker wants the bodies to be found, but on his terms?” This comes from Chris who is sitting across from Michael length wise.

“Yes, so he can find another victim while the authorities are busy investigating the ones that came before.”  It sounds particularly chilling when Ryan puts it into words. But it’s true. The fucker is sending the authorities on a chase while he hunts and by the time a body shows up, he’s already gone. But he’s slipping. Lana Forde’s bloody corpse was evidence of that.

“What about the wounds? Joel mentioned something about some kind of tool being used.” Geoff asks, and it’s Michael who answers his question.

“Since he’s narrowed it down to exsanguination as the cause of death it’d make sense for an instrument to be used considering the incisions in the necks of the victims. He has nothing concrete yet, but he’s pretty sure a boring instrument was used.”

“Jesus dicks.” Michael smiles, but it’s lacking in mirth.  

“Putting it lightly there, Chief.” Geoff looks to him, but he doesn’t smile either.

The conference room goes silent and Michael takes the time to glance over every other occupant in the room. Ryan is splitting his attention between everyone else and his laptop screen, Kerry beside him and focused intently on what Michael presumes are Ryan’s reports about the first two victims. Chris sits at the far end of the conference table surrounded by mugs and stacks of papers. He looks as bad as Michael feels. Finally Michael slants his gaze to Geoff. The man in question looks deep in thought, heavy lidded eyes unfocused, hands folded together on the surface of the table. With the sun pouring in through the windows, Michael can see Geoff’s ink from his position even with the man’s sleeves all the way down. He sees part of a key and most of a lock, and just a piece of the lightning bolt that acts as a wedding band. Something heavy settles in Michael’s chest and, again, Michael knows what it is. It is the feeling that though this case is already horrible enough, there’s room for all sorts of shit to crop up.

When Geoff leaves the conference room on the pretense of checking up on Jack, the feeling gets worse.

\---

**8:07 AM**

Geoff’s just left Jack’s office and is on his way back to the conference room when Joel accosts him in the hall.

“What’s up buddy?” He asks, but Joel just stares. His expression isn’t grave, but it brooks no amusement and Geoff immediately sobers up.

“I need you to come to the lab with me.” Geoff’s already made up his mind to go with Joel, but when the pathologist tugs on his arm, worry begins to set in.

“So what’s up?” They’re halfway to the lab, Geoff practically jogging to keep up with Joel whilst the other man takes quick, long strides in silence. By the look on the pathologist’s face, Geoff assumes Joel won’t answer his question until they get to the lab, but when Joel freezes mid step and turns to look Geoff in the eye, the assumption is forgotten.

“If I tell you this, you have to promise me you’ll go and tell the others on this case.” Joel is staring again; expression blank, but his eyes hold some sort of dread.

“Of course I’ll tell them. I kinda have to.” The blank expression doesn’t go away, but Joel’s shoulders seem to sag as if Geoff’s reply has taken a load off of them.

“So I just finished examining the most recent victim. I paid special attention to the wounds on her neck and what I found honestly terrified me.”

“What the fuck happened Joel?” Geoff already has a good idea of what happened. Knowledge gleaned from spending time with a wild haired younger man has given him perspective on every single case he’s ever worked on. But even then he can’t be sure.

“You remember how I thought the puncture wounds made in the necks of these girls were the product of some instrument, right?” Geoff nods jerkily.

“Yeah well, the reality happens to be that the incisions were made by teeth; canines to be exact.”

“But I thought we’d already ruled out animal attacks.”

“We did and I was just as puzzled as you when it hit me. Our killer is human, Geoff.” Geoff laughs.

“Bullshit.” He says with a slight smile, but Joel just stares him down. “Really? Human? Are you sure?”

Joel nods.

“I am. Our killer is human and he has a thirst for blood.”

\---

**8:36 AM**

When Geoff finally returns to the conference room, he looks spooked. He’s paler than Michael has ever seen him and when he looks down, the man’s hands are shaking hard enough for Michael to pick it up from his seat at the table.

“Hey Geoff, you okay?” Michael asks and Geoff’s eyes flick away from the pictures of the victims on the white board to meet his stare.

“I just got out of a talk with Joel.”

“And what happened during this talk with Joel that has you so freaked out?”

“I was heading back from Jack’s office when he caught me in the hall. He said he found out something while taking a look at our most recent victim.”

“And what was that something?” Asks Ryan and Michael watches as Geoff gnaws so hard on his lower lip he thinks it might start to bleed.

“The wounds on her neck were made by teeth. Human teeth.” Ryan’s eyes go wide.

“Well that’s, that’s-”

“ _Jesus_.” Kerry cuts him off and Geoff runs a hand through his hair. He looks incredibly calm, but Michael knows he is anything but.

“So,” Here his voice cracks, “with all of that on the table, how would you guys feel if I called for aid?”

“Sir?” Kerry saves Michael from having to ask, so he just stares at the man willing him to look in his direction. There is no victory when he does.

“Not from the FBI, this case hasn’t yet breached state borders, but from another agency. One that has the resources to get us somewhere.”

“What agency would that be?” Ryan asks, but Geoff doesn’t move his gaze from Michael. If anything he stares harder.

_‘What the fuck are you up to Ramsey?’_

“A reliable one.” Geoff says and Michael can tell that Ryan wants to ask more, but Geoff gets up from his seat and leaves, muttering about needing a beer though he’s never had even so much as a drop of alcohol at the station while on duty.

His reply leaves an ashy taste in Michael’s mouth. In his years of working with him, Geoff has never been one to bullshit, has never been one to hide things. If he had something to tell you, he’d tell you. Like fuck, his thoughts were as bold as the ink on his arms. Silence is out of character for Geoff Ramsey and Michael has no idea how he feels about it.

For a while no one moves. Five agonizing minutes go by and then Ryan, blessed Ryan, breaks the silence.

“Chris, can you circle the location where Lana Forde was found on the map for me?” He asks and the officer all but leaps from his seat to comply. He’s up before the map with a marker in hand but pauses.

“It was East Seventh and Brazos, right Kerry?”

“Y-yeah.”

\---

**8:56 AM**

After running it by the guys Geoff leaves the conference room once again. But once he’s closed the door and seated himself in his chair, he finds himself staring at a picture of his wife and child while contemplating if he should make the call or not. His eyes flick to the clock on his wall. It’s just before nine, and though Geoff and Burnie are friends, a call so early in the morning might not be appreciated.

“Fuck it.” He’s been psyching himself out for long enough. He snatches the receiver and puts it to his ear and dials a number he knows by heart.

 _“Hello, Michael Burns’ office, may I ask who is speaking?”_ Answers a chipper voice and Geoff smiles despite himself.

“Hey Kara, it’s Geoff Ramsey from the downtown PD.”

_“Oh Geoff, hey. It’s been a while. You need me to direct you to Burnie?”_

“Yes please.”

 _“All right, hold for a moment please.”_ Several minutes go by while Kara directs his call and Geoff can’t keep his free hand still. He’s a little antsy and the process is taking longer than he remembers, but he chalks it up to nerves.

 _“Hey Geoff, you there?”_ A new voice comes over the line and Geoff supresses a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, I’m here. Listen, I know it’s early and shit, but you know about the case we’re working on right now?”

 _“The one you said one of your detectives told you was a serial case? Yeah, what about it?”_ Burnie asks and Geoff plants his elbows on his desk, receiver jammed between his shoulder and ear as he rests his forehead in his hand.

“There’s been a development.”

 _“What kind of development?”_ Burnie asks slowly and Geoff licks his lips.

“The kind that requires outside help.” He replies just as slow. It’s early, he hasn’t slept for very long and he’s pressed for time but god damn it if he has to repeat himself.

 _“Okay, do you need the Bureau?”_ Geoff straightens in his chair and looks to the photo of Griffon and Audree again.

“No, not the Bureau, I have another agency in mind.”

 _“And which agency would that be?”_ Burnie, Geoff can tell, is getting impatient. He can’t blame him though, but so much is going on in his head. _‘Will he do it? Will he come over?’_ He asks himself while Burnie’s breath creates static on his end of the line. And more importantly _“will they let him?’_

“It’s a lesser known agency, but they helped me when Griffon got into some trouble.” He says and Burnie breathes out heavily.

_“I’m getting that you can trust them Ramsey, but I’m going to need a name and contact information if you want aid.”_

“Just ask around about MESA, I’m certain there are people in your building that know of it.” Burnie sighs.

 _“You’re not going to give me anything else are you?”_ He asks and Geoff smiles ruefully though he knows Burnie can’t see it.

“Just that you should ask for an Agent Greenaway, but no, nothing more than that.” The line goes so quiet Geoff thinks Burnie might have hung up on him, but the sound of rustling papers derails that train of thought.

_“All right, I’ll ask around. Call you later with details?”_

“Yeah. Hey, thanks, man.”

 _“It’s fine, but why do you need me to be the one to call for aid?”_ Damn. He’s been prepared to work around answering that question since before he picked up the phone, but a mental conversation is very different from the actual thing. Lips curving in a sad smile, he chuckles humourlessly.

“If I tried to tell you right now, it’d take the rest of the morning for me to explain.” He says and Burnie groans.

_“You really suck with this mysterious bullshit, man.”_

“I know, I know, but it’s all for the greater good in the end. Talk to you later, Burns?”

“Yeah, talk to you later, Geoff.” And then he hangs up.

Silence slithers in once Geoff replaces the receiver. He’s made the call, but now all he can do is wait. Resting his elbows on his desk and weaving his fingers together, he settles his chin atop his interlocked fingers and closes his eyes.

“It’s been two years, buddy. Two years too long.”

When he opens his eyes he focuses his attention to his clock once more. The minute hands ticks over and it’s officially nine o’clock in the morning.

“You’re six hours ahead; you better take the fucking call.”

\---

**9:50 AM**

“Hey Geoff there’s call for you in your office. It’s the DA.” Everyone looks up when Brandon swings by and calls for Geoff. From where he’s sitting Michael can see Geoff’s lips come together in a thin line.

“Thanks Brandon.” The detective in question inclines his head and leaves and Geoff stands from his chair. “You guys mind if I take this?” Michael scoffs.

“Talk to Burnie, Geoff. This case isn’t going anywhere.” When Geoff frowns Michael wants to open his mouth to apologize, but before he can Geoff waves him off.

“All right then. Be back in a bit.”

\---

“What’s up Burns?” Geoff asks when he picks up the phone.

_“I got through to MESA.”_

“And?”

_“I spoke with their director and told them what you told me about the case. I also asked them about your guy and they’ll be sending him over.”_

 “ETA?”

_“Tomorrow.”_

“Thanks Burnie, really.”

_“Geoff?”_

“It’s nothing, I’m just glad he’ll be getting here soon.”

_“All right then... Take care.”_

“Yeah, you too.”

**\---**

**10:12 AM CST, 4:12 PM WET**

When the phone at his desk rings, he’s been hard at works for hours. Not looking away from his laptop screen, he reaches out for the receiver and picks up in the middle of the third ring.

“Agent Greenaway speaking.” He says placing the phone between his shoulder and ear while he goes back to typing.

 _“Greenaway, the Director called. Said he needs you in his office_.” Ben’s voice is soft and clipped, but he smiles nonetheless.

“Cheers Ben, tell him I’m on my way.”

_“Will do. Oh and Gavin?”_

“Yeah?”

_“It sounded serious.”_

“Understood. Talk to you later, Ben.”

_“Talk to you later.”_

When Gavin hangs up the phone, his hand doesn’t come off the receiver too lost in thought to be aware of his movements, or lack thereof. For months the Director has practically made it a thing not to call for him. _‘What does he need me for now?’_ Gavin wonders as he goes back to his laptop. Taking the time to finish the sentence he left off on and then saving the document, he shuts the machine off and places it in its bag. He has the feeling he won’t get to finish the report.

“Serious. Whatever could he mean by serious?”

\---

He’s been in contact with the Director many times, often enough to remember how the man likes his tea and that knocking is a very appreciated gesture. Gavin would go as far to say that he and the Director are on friendly terms, but the vague manner in which Ben told him that he was needed in the man’s office set’s Gavin on edge. Apprehension he hasn’t felt in a while sets in and it gets worse and worse as he makes his way down the hall to the elevator. His mind is a flurry of speculation as he presses the call button and he watches his skewed reflection in the metal doors.

The hall leading to the Director’s office is nearly void of light, not out of necessity, but out of preference. Gavin has no trouble navigating the dark corridor, however, and finishes the last legs of his trip preparing. But preparing for what?

When reaches the office, he stops before the door and knocks three times and then waits for the Director’s cue. He doesn’t have to wait long. Not even five seconds go by before the Director says,

“Come in.”

“Director, I was told you wished to speak to me about an urgent matter?”

“Yes, but please have a seat.” The Director’s even tone and calm expression settles Gavin’s nerves. The matter is serious, but he isn’t in trouble. Nodding Gavin moves to the wing backed chair in front his superior’s desk all while trying not to let his relief show. Once he’s settled Gavin rests his elbows on the arms of his chair and lifts his head to make eye contact. What he sees is a man older than himself, in more ways than one, staring back, hands folded in front of him.

“May I ask what this is about, sir?” Gavin asks and the Director’s lips lift at the corners.

“Before you were called down I received a call from America.”

“America?” The Director nods.

“Yes. A District Attorney from the state of Texas is requesting aid for a case believed to be right up our alley.”

“All right, but what does that have to do with me, sir?” The sir is quickly tacked on after an awkward pause, but the Director only smiles.

“You’ve worked in Texas before, have you not Agent Greenaway?” He asks and Gavin immediately thinks back to his, limited, time in the States. Memories of overly sweetened coffee, mouth-watering dinners, sawdust and piggy back rides flood his mind. When he comes back to reality, he licks his lips and takes an unnecessary breath.

“I have, yes. But only once.” It’s a blatant lie that obviously won’t hold up, but the Director merely watches him, brown eyes giving nothing away.

“So you would not object to working there again, would you?” The query takes Gavin by surprise.

“N-no, but what is the case, sir?” Gavin asks and the gentle smile on the man’s face fades and then he’s moving, reaching for an ominous looking black folder filled with what turns out to be police reports.

“Four young women in the community have gone missing, turning up dead less than half a week later. The pathologist at the downtown Austin Police Department determined exsanguination as the cause of death. Earlier today the most recent victim was found with her throat in ruins.”

Looking at the crime scene photos Gavin understands why MESA was called in. But the agency has branches within America so Gavin is perplexed as to why a request for help would go to the England branch. He puts these thoughts into words as he continues flipping through the reports and transcripts.

“But MESA has branches within the States, why come to us?”

“I was told our branch was mentioned specifically by the Chief of the Austin PD.” At that Gavin freezes. When he looks up at the Director the man’s face is devoid of expression, but his eyes shine with curiosity.

“Is that so?” Gavin asks slowly. He’s forming an idea now, but what the Director says can make or break it.

“Yes. The same chief whose wife you helped get acclimated to our community, for lack of a better word.”

There it is.

“If that is so, why ask me to come here, why tell me about this case? I’ve been working behind a desk in integration, which just so happens to be my job, for over a year now. I thought I was barred from working in the field.” He’s forgoing the sirs now; he’s far beyond the point of remembering his position because the Director himself was the one to alert him of his suspension from the field a week after he woke up. He’d been in recovery for four months and out of it for only seven days when he was asked to come back to work. The SID, Supernatural Integration Department, was short staffed and in need of his ‘expertise.’

“You were officially suspended from the field for two months, but you continued working with Integration even when your suspension was over. And you are correct, it has been over a year which is why I think you are ready to take on this case, or am I wrong, Gavin?” The use of his first name is surprising enough to snap him out of his anger.  

“No, no I’m ready. I can do this. Father.” Gavin’s father smiles then and Gavin cannot help an, albeit small, smile of his own because this smile is much warmer than the first. Warmer and truly genuine.

“Good, then I should expect you to be ready by tomorrow for your flight?”

“You already confirmed that I was going over?” His father laughs.

“Yes. Now, are you going to be ready?” Gavin doesn’t even hesitate.

“Yes. I’ll be ready, sir.”

\---

**4:50 PM, WET**

If Gavin’s heart were still beating, it would be going a mile a minute, pounding loud enough for every supernatural and maybe even some of the humans in the building to hear. Before he’d been turned, America was a far flung dream, miles and miles away. Since he could read and understand maps, he’d wanted to visit, his boyish mind awash with fantasies of men riding horse bareback, revolvers holstered to their hips and hands weathered from curling around reins.

When he thinks back he remembers falling asleep with his eyes losing focus of the map his father bought him. He’d pinned it to the wall across from his bed and the same image would be imprinted in his eyelids each night. America; independence won through fire and bloodshed. America; so diverse in its climate unlike dreary old England with its daily rain and overcast skies. Oh how he had dreamt of walking upon foreign soil. But then war broke out and his dream was lost to chaos. Recollections of skirmishes and battles leave Gavin shuddering. Though, it was one particular skirmish that he was grateful for, however reluctantly.

After leaving the Director’s office, Gavin had returned to his own to pack what he thought would be needed. But what he _needed_ wasn’t tangible.

“Headed off to the land of the free again, are you, B?” A voice asks and Gavin looks up from his folded hands on his desk to find Daniel Gruchy looking down at him.

“Hm, it was so nice the times I’d gone before I thought another visit was in order. Also, how did you get in here?”

“Well the door was open, innit?” Dan says while cocking his head to the side and Gavin’s lips quirk.

“So, when did you get back?” Gavin asks as he reclines in his chair and Dan smiles.

“A few days ago and the only reason I didn’t come to see you was because I was drafted to help look after some pups that had been just recruited.” The last part of Dan’s explanation has Gavin throwing his head back in laughter.

“Bloody hell, pups? You sound like such an old dog, B.” He says after he quiets down and Dan smirks.

“Still ain’t as old as you, B.” Dan retorts and Gavin’s laughter comes out as nothing more than a high squeak which sets Dan off in to a fit of his own. Soon they’ve settled down, though Gavin holds a hand to his mouth to stifle himself.

“All right, so now that you’ve told me that the new recruits still need to be leash trained, is there any other reason you’ve come to see me? Not that I don’t appreciate you visiting, but the Integration offices aren’t exactly a second home to you like they are to me.” Dan, who has since sat down becomes disconcertingly silent and Gavin can’t help but send out a wave of concern as it seems his best friend is having trouble making eye contact with him. “Dan?” Gavin asks aloud. He leans forward as Dan continues to look anywhere else but at him. Dan isn’t a talkative fellow, he’s more of a listener, but he’s never had any trouble making eye contact unless something was bothering him.

“I’m to go with you to America.” Dan says and Gavin straightens so quickly that when his back collides with his chair the leather creaks.

“Did they say why?”

“Security.” Is the single word reply and then it’s Gavin who looks away.

“Do they worry that I’m going to go against regulation so much that I need someone to watch over me?” Gavin asks and he can feel Dan’s frustration.

“No! No. They worry that you might put yourself out of commission again, they-”

“So that’s it.” Gavin cuts him off and Dan actually growls.

“No. They, your father, a bunch of other people, and _me,_ worry that you might do something even more reckless than you did when you saved that girl. We worry that you might do something that your kind can’t come back from. You have an excellent record Gavin, but a line has to be drawn somewhere.” Dan is angry and his words sound as if they’ve been ripped out of him. A harsh truth that had to be told. The guilt sets in immediately.

“Damn it, B, I- Fuck.” Gavin can feel rather than see the frustration dissipate into an ache he is all too familiar with, but he does not move away when Dan gets up from his seat, moves around his desk, and folds Gavin into a comfortingly warm embrace.

“It’s fine, B. It’s fine.” Dan has hugged him before, out of joy and relief, and out of sorrow and grief, but it’s been a while. And it is a luxury Gavin is immensely grateful for, especially now.

A few minutes later Dan lets go and Gavin, who is naturally cold himself, misses the warmth immediately. If Dan can tell, which he most likely can, he doesn’t show it.

“So you and me, eh B?” Gavin asks and Dan just nods.

“Sure is, B, sure is.”

\---

**6:13 PM**

Before Dan had shown up in his office Gavin had already been packed and had Lloyd handed off to a mutual friend to take care of. It was a small matter of leaving MESA and driving to their shared apartment to pick up Gavin’s things and other essentials for the trip. At least a week’s worth of clothes gets packed into a suitcase and a customized .40 caliber pistol gets tucked into a holster on his thigh.

“Got everything?” Dan asks when Gavin comes out of his room with his suitcase rolling behind him.

“Yeah.”

“All right then, anything else need to be done before we head off to the hangar?”

“Mm, I’d like to stop by headquarters, talk to the Director a bit.” Gavin murmurs a little offhandedly and Dan smiles knowingly.

“Then we should get your stuff loaded and go soon because the jet is set to leave at seven.”

“Right.”

\---

Gavin is in a different mood when he stands before the Director’s door this time around. His hand rises to knock, but his father’s voice sounds before his knuckles even touch the wood, bidding him to come in.

“You’ll be leaving soon, will you?” Director Greenaway asks as Gavin nears his desk.

“Yes. And Agent Gruchy will be joining me, as it turns out.” Gavin replies and his father gives him a look.

“He is accompanying you for security, Gavin. Really, he-”

“I know, I assure you. Dan told me himself.” Gavin lets out before his father can say anymore.

“Then why bring it up?” He sounds genuinely curious and Gavin can’t help a smile.

“Because I wanted you to know that I understand. I also wanted you to know that I’m grateful. On the drive back here I realized that I don’t think I could have gone over alone. Well I could’ve but I don’t think I’d have been able to stand it. And Dan is very capable; he should be an asset to the investigation.” Gavin is babbling and he knows he is, but once one word is out he can’t stop.

“Gavin.” His father calls and, unaware that his gaze had strayed, Gavin flicks his gaze to him.

“Yes, sir?” His head tilts to the side and his father’s lips curl up at the corners.

“Come here.” And as he brings up his arms it dawns on Gavin that he should move. So he does, he walks the short distance between himself and his father and wraps his arms around him and holds on tight.

“I want you to be careful, you hear me?” Gavin nods in lieu of speaking and when his father’s arms grow tighter around him his arms go tighter as well.

“I will.” Gavin says when they part.

“I expect you to come see me when you return.” His father says, suddenly official and Gavin nods.

“Understood.” He looks to the clock on the wall. It’s just before six thirty. “I should get going now.” He says.

“Yes, you should.” His father agrees and Gavin nods again.

Before he’s out the door though, his father calls out to him one last time.

“Have a safe trip, son. Send my regards to Daniel as well.”

“I will, father. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye Gavin.”

\---

When Gavin gets to the building’s lobby Dan is leant against a wall waiting for him. They exchange no words as they head outside to the car, Dan getting in the driver’s seat and Gavin sliding into the passenger’s side. As soon as they turn out of the lot, Gavin turns to look out the window and spends the drive watching the scenery rush by. He doesn’t do it to commit it to memory, after all he’s lived long enough to know about all of England’s nooks and crannies, but there’s something calming about watching a sprawling city turn into rolling hills and dense forests.

“Can you tell me what Texas is like, B?” Dan asks when they are minutes before arriving at MESA’s private hangar. The question is unbidden and Gavin is unprepared, but after a moment of processing Dan’s query he doesn’t even have to think before he speaks.

“It’s wonderful. Bloody hot, but the people are lovely. It’s a, Texas is-” His voice is thick with emotion and he breaks off.

“Gavin?” Dan sounds concerned and Gavin hurries to send out a wave of calm. The hangar can be seen in the distance when Gavin finally answers.

“Texas is- Texas is a second home. And I wouldn’t trade the relationships I made there for anything.”

\---

**6:53 PM**

They pull into the hangar with just enough time for Dan to stash his car in the garage, but once that’s done they run over to the plane, neither of them out of breath when they reach it.

With their luggage stored away, Dan makes his way to a seat and flops down in it. Gavin, walking after him at a more sedate pace, settles in a seat across the aisle from his friend sitting his messenger bag on his lap which is full of the faxed over reports and photos. It’s ten hours from London to Austin and he is set on knowing as much as he can about the case before he arrives. He and Dan will be coming in too late to hit the ground running, but a little knowledge never hurt.

Soon the jet begins to move and they strap themselves in when the pilot’s voice comes over the intercom telling them to buckle up. Once they’ve reached cruising altitude Gavin unbuckles his belt and reaches into his bag for the black folder. Though he’d glanced at them back at headquarters, they are no less grim.

“B, put that stuff away.” Dan’s voice has him looking up and to the side where his friend is watching him with sad eyes. “You’ll have plenty of time to do that later, for now just, I don’t know…” He trails off and Gavin waits. He isn’t let down. “You’ll be able to do nothing if you’ve taxed yourself.” Gavin huffs a laugh.

“Tax myself? I’m a bloody supernatural creature, Dan. My physiology allows me to do things some people can only dream of doing. How could I tax myself?”

“You’ve already been working damn hard before this. Hell, Ben told me you were working when the Director called for you. What do you have to say for that?” Gavin can feel Dan’s protective instincts, amplified by his change, wash over him.

“I’m not some little lamb, B. I’ll be fine.” Gavin tries to reason but Dan won’t relent.

“Just give it a couple hours at least, please?” And Dan’s voice takes on a tone Gavin hasn’t heard in years.

_“B, Gavin, is that- is that really you?”_

Gavin’s eyes close as a breath leaves him. When he opens them Dan is staring, face tight with determination.

“All right, fine. Two hours, but no more than that, okay?” Gavin acquiesces but Dan’s face remains stormy. Gavin thought he would be glad about getting little resistance.

“Gavin, that’s not what I-” Dan starts, but Gavin cuts him off.

“Dan.” He says in a low voice and Dan makes a noise in his throat akin to a growl.

“Fine, fine. Of course, B. Two hours, no more, no less.”

“Good.”

Of course, in less than two hours Dan falls asleep and Gavin takes the opportunity to pull out the file once more. Altogether, the file isn’t particularly thick, but a detective with a way with words has made it obvious he has speculations. As he flips through, transcriptions of interviews from friends and family members have Gavin aching for the family he made for himself when he’d first been to Austin.

“Christ, this is gonna be a right mess. Bloody hell.” He tucks the pages back into the folder, snaps it closed and returns it to his bag. Hours later an attendant comes by and he takes a long necked bottle from the trolley.

“It’s always unnerved me to see blood stored as if it were wine. Is it any good like that?” Dan asks blearily as Gavin pours himself a glass. He says nothing as he raises it to his lips and takes a sip. It’s warm and soothes the burn in his throat, but it’s lacking something.

“Hm, it’s fine, much better than synthetic, but not as good as fresh.” Gavin licks his lips as he swirls his drink. He can feel Dan take on an air of disgust and he stops himself from laughing.

“Right, right.” The ex-soldier shudders and Gavin eyes the in-flight meal cooling on his pull down tray.

“You asked.”

“Remind me not to do so again.”

“I make no promises.”

“Oh cheers, yeah?” And then Gavin does laugh.

“Of course. Cheers, B. Cheers.”

\---

**11:09 PM CST**

As soon as Gavin steps off the plane a breeze blows and then Texas’ heat slams into him. When he looks behind him he sees Dan is obviously more affected by it.

“Bloody hell, you weren’t kidding when you said it was hot.” Gavin laughs and Dan scowls, but it doesn’t last long when Dan’s focus is stolen by something else.

“Dan?”

“So I was expecting only one of you to show up. Looks like your agency is being generous.” The voice cracks on the last word and Gavin whips around so fast his neck cracks. What meets his gaze is a tall, dark haired man with sleepy blue eyes and a closed lip smile.

“Geoff?”

“Hey Gavino, long time no see, huh?” Gavin says nothing. Instead he lets go of his suitcase and makes his way over to Geoff and wraps his arms around the other man, closes his eyes and buries his face in his neck and breathes in the familiar scent of whisky, coffee, and _home_.

“Dear lord Geoff, what happened to your beard?” Gavin asks when he pulls away and Geoff laughs hard enough that his eyes close and his teeth are bared.

“It’s been two years, man. You don’t think I would have gotten tired of it?” Gavin starts to laugh but stops when he hears Dan’s voice.

“Gavin?” Dan asks and Gavin remembers.

“Oh, right! B, come over here. I’d like for you to officially meet Geoff Ramsey.” He says when Dan approaches and he watches as Dan looks Geoff over, head tilting like a curious dog.

“So _you’re_ the one Gavin stayed with six years ago. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet and speak with you in the flesh, Mr. Ramsey.” Dan holds out his hand to shake and Geoff takes it with a benign smile.

“Likewise, Dan. And, uh, you can call me Geoff if you like. I’m not really into formalities.” The ‘as you well know’ goes unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

Things lapse into silence, but Gavin is content. As a plane flies overhead, he and Dan retrieve their luggage and follow Geoff off the strip towards his car.

“So where are you guys staying?” Geoff asks once they’ve piled in are on the road. With Dan busy watching the scenery as it goes by, Gavin fields Geoff’s question.

“We’ve been booked at the Radisson, right B?”

“Hm? Oh yeah. The Director gave me the itinerary before I met you in your office. One room, two beds.” Dan replies and Geoff whistles as he shakes his head.

“Damn, the Radisson? That’s five whole stars of accommodation. And your agency is paying for it?”

“Yes, well the England branch doesn’t usually send out agents to other countries, but when they do, they tend to go for the best.” Geoff just shakes his head again and things grow quiet. There is the urge to ask about the case, to ask if any leads have been found since MESA was contacted, but it’s not even been a day. And while Gavin has faith in the Austin police department, only so much can be done and it’s nearing midnight. A little while later Gavin can see the hotel up ahead.

“Do you expect us by the station at a certain time?” Dan asks as they pull up and Gavin watches Geoff’s face in the rear view mirror as he stops to think.

“The earlier the better would be awesome, so any time before noon is cool.”

“Before noon, okay.”

Both Dan and Gavin have their luggage out of the trunk when Geoff speaks up.

“All right then. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, catch you later.” Dan replies and Geoff nods before he turns to look at Gavin.

“See you, buddy.” He says and Gavin’s smile is tinged with melancholy.

“G’night Geoffrey.”

Geoff waves before he gets back into his car and Gavin waves until he can’t see it anymore.

“Shall we check in, B?”

“Yeah, the sooner we can review the case, the better.” Gavin replies and Dan nods.

“I haven’t had a real chance to read up on it, but it’s a bad one innit?”

“All cases are usually bad cases when we end up getting called in, Dan.” Gavin replies and Dan frowns.

“Well yeah, but I did see the crime scene photos. The last scene was awful.”

“It was and that’s what makes me worried.”

“Worried?”

“If this is the work of a serial killer, as much as it pains me to say, why would he slip so quickly? He’s only four victims in and he’s already leaving tons of evidence behind. According to the reports, the last three scenes were virtually spotless. But come number four, there’s blood all over the walls.”

“You don’t think-” Dan begins and Gavin cuts him off.

“I do, and I’m sincerely hoping I’m wrong because if I’m right, this case just got a lot more horrid.”

“Blimey.”

“So we should check in, yeah? I need to check over some things.”

“Right then, after you, B.” Dan makes a grand gesture with his arm and Gavin can’t resist a smile.

“Why Daniel, you’re such a charmer.”

“But of course.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Wednesday, July 17 th, 9:13 AM**

It’s just past nine, but Michael is already on edge. He’d come in early, around the time he’d planned to come in the day before, and set to work. He’d been working in the bullpen, unable to fully settle, but relief had washed over him when Ryan came in. That was three hours ago. The four of them, Kerry, Chris, Ryan and Michael himself have since sequestered themselves in the conference room and Michael’s eyes are flicking from the map to the copies of the autopsy reports lovingly provided by Joel, but his gaze always sticks on the report on Lana Forde far longer than it does on the others. Something about the way she died, assuredly the same way as the others though glaringly different bothers him. The tears in her neck and her blood sprayed on the walls of the alley she was found in makes him queasy, but not because of the imagery. He’s been in homicide long enough to be used to arterial spray.

“Michael, are you okay?” Someone asks and Michael looks away from the papers in front of him and up at Kerry who is sitting across from him.

“I’m fine, I just… Something about Forde’s death is bothering me.” Ryan, sitting at the head of the conference table shifts in his seat and Michael knows the other detective understands how he feels.

“It’s a hell of a lot messier than the others.” He says and Michael makes a grab for his long gone cold cup of coffee. He doesn’t need a drink, or he might need one, but he can’t, not while on duty, so he tells himself it’s so he has something to do with his hands. Something to stop them from shaking and keep them still so he can explain.

“It’s just, there was enough blood left behind for Geoff to say the killer painted the walls with it, but she didn’t bleed out. Joel examined the body and he’s definitively sure exsanguination was the cause of death just like the others. What person is capable of that?” His voice goes up when he poses the question but no one says anything about it.

“I can see where you’re coming from, Michael.” Ryan says and three pairs of eyes turn to look at him. “With the other three, it’s much more feasible for the killer to have drained the victims of blood and then dump them in the alleys where they were found. But in Forde’s case, the killer couldn’t have possibly drained her, not such in an open space, but he did.”

A black blur zips past the window behind Ryan and Michael watches as a black dot, a crow, flaps its wings a few times then glides until it disappears behind another building. Some childish part of him remembers hearing about how crows were bad omens and how scared he was to see one, or two or _five_ crows nesting in a tree by his house. He hasn’t thought about the superstition in years, but it’s creeping up on him now.

_‘God, this is such a fucking mess.’_

“Hey, has anyone seen Geoff around?” This comes from Chris who sits by the white board twirling a marker in his hand. If Michael looks harder he can see his reflection faintly, staring back at him.

“I saw him talking to Jack a little while ago, but I haven’t seen him since.” Ryan answers and Michael begins to worry.

“He could be talking to the others about their cases. Brandon and Jordan are dealing with an arsonist aren’t they?” Chris says with another twirl of the marker and Michael sees Ryan bring his hand to his chin out of the corner of his eye.

“Hm, could be. But that doesn’t explain us not seeing him. He would’ve told us if he was occupied seeing as he’s working on this case now.”

“Maybe he’s picking up the guy coming in to help us.” Kerry offers and Michael takes a sip of his cold coffee to stop himself from voicing his thoughts about receiving aid from an apparently reliable agency. Michael trusts Geoff with his life, but with all that’s been happening, calling for help just doesn’t sit well with him.

“When do you think he’ll get in?” Chris asks.

“Who, Geoff or the guy?”

“Either of them.” Michael says and Chris swivels his gaze from Ryan to him.

“I have no idea.”

“Hey guys, there’s been a call.” All occupants of the conference room turn to see Jordan leant up against one of the double doors.

“Okay, but why would we be needed?” Ryan asks and Jordan’s face turns bleak.

“Some remains have been found, in an alley on Fifth and San Antonio and the guys who responded aren’t sure, but they think it might be one of yours.” Chris drops his marker and Michael watches as it fall and rolls away from the cop.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Michael snaps and Jordan’s frown deepens.

“What I mean is that they think your killer is responsible.” A chill runs down Michael’s spine and it takes all of him to not react.

“But I though the first was that Lowe girl.” Kerry asks. The room grows heavy with silence and Kerry pales. “Wasn’t she?” Michael hears Ryan shift in his seat again, planting his elbows on the table top, fingers interlocking and his chin coming to rest on his hands.

“I thought she was, but if we’re considering Forde’s death as where the culprit starts slipping, then maybe he’s been killing for far longer than was surmised.” Ryan admits and Michael places his mug back on the table.

“If that’s the truth, we have a fuck ton of work ahead of us.” He says and he can feel the tension in the room get eaten up by fear.

Fear of what though? Fear of finding the truth? Fear of not being able to catch the killer?

Or was it fear for fear’s sake?

“Are any of you gonna go and check it out?” Jordan asks and Ryan speaks up.

“If there’s a chance the victims is one of ours, I’m going. What about you, Michael?”

“I’m surprised you have to ask. I’m going.” Everyone can hear how Jordan sags with relief.

“Okay, okay, catch you guys later? Say, when we aren’t going after fucks who break the law?”

“No promises.” This coming from Ryan before he’s finished packing up and heading out the door, Michael hot on his heels.  

\---

**9:40 AM**

Michael and Ryan have been canvassing the area for less than half an hour and Michael is immensely grateful for the shade that the alley provides. It’s maybe eighty degrees out at current, but reports promise a rise in temperature. Hiding in the shade is no better than an air conditioned office, but it’s better than baking in the Texas heat. The terrible stench, however, cannot be avoided.

The narrow strip between buildings is home to several dumpsters, but none of them can quite mask the smell of death. ‘Their’ body is situated between two of them and the stench is horrible. The body had been sniffed out a by a curious collie and it was only because the body was so hidden so well that Michael understands it not being found until now. That doesn’t stop him from asking about it.

“Can someone explain to me just how a body could go unnoticed for so long?” Michael asks as he crouches near the body. The smell gets worse as he grows closer, but he needs to take a look. 

“The body must have been hidden with more care than the latest one. Your killer must’ve been dead set on the poor girl not being found.” Says a voice from behind him and Michael looks up from where he’d crouched down by the remains. A surgical mask dominates the bottom half of his face, but the worst of the smell still gets past and Michael has to try very hard not to retch. The cop who spoke is wearing a mask himself and the odour seems to be affecting him as well.

“He must be more meticulous then. I just don’t get how he could go from this,” Michael says gesturing to the body, “To the bloody mess of the latest crime scene.” His voice comes out low and muffled, but the cop nods.

There’s the sound of shoes scuffing and Michael can see Ryan move from the other side of the alley and closer to the body.

“I have an idea, but it’s, it’s not-”

“Ryan.” Michael urges and Ryan sighs, the push of air against the fabric of the mask sounding like a hiss. 

“If he’s been doing this for longer than previously thought, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that his previous method of finding victims didn’t do it enough for him. It explains why the bodies were found quicker and, and it explains the murder of Lana Forde.”

“So instead of a fucker who attracts and kills women, we’re looking for one that hunts for them so he can get a thrill out of it?” Michael asks as he stands and Ryan just looks at him.

“Maybe, but until we get this body to Joel, we can’t be sure.”

“And if it isn’t one of ours, what then? What if we have another asshole running around killing people?”

“I don’t know, Michael. We’ll just have to wait and see.” There is logic in Ryan’s reply, but Michael is angry, frustration tugging at him so he’ll scream.

When he first got into law enforcement and worked on his first murder case, he knew and swore that he’d be in it for the long haul. He wanted to keep the streets safe and he did well enough of a job to land a promotion. But murder was murder and the death of the Forde girl was particularly brutal.

“All right, I called Joel and told him to get the lab prepared. You ready to go Michael? Michael?” Ryan asks after he gets off his phone.

“Detective Jones, are you all right?” Asks the cop and Michael snaps out of whatever trance he’d been in.

“What?”

“You okay, man? You looked miles away.”

Michael’s eyes close as he tries to calm himself. Breathing out his nose and in through his mouth chases away the smell of the decomposing corpse and subsequently clears his mind.

“Yeah, I’m good. You said you called Joel?”

“I did. After the body gets put in a bag we should be set to go.”

“Okay.” He says voice a little wobbly and Ryan eyes him concernedly. “Okay.” He says again more firmly and Ryan eyes him for a bit longer before turning away, calling for a body bag.

“It’s awful isn’t it?” The cop asks and Michael faces him.

“What is?”

“Well, all of it. Murder, theft, crime in general really.”

The grey at the officer’s temples tell Michael he’s been on the force for a while and his tan suggests that he’s lived in Texas longer than Michael has, but one look at his eyes tells Michael that he’s still young.

“Of course it’s fucking awful, that’s why we’re here. To prevent it or at least provide justice for it.” Michael replies sharply but the officer smiles.

“Hm, you got a good head on your shoulders kid. Lot of years left in you yet.” There’s admiration and pride in the man’s voice and the corner of Michael’s mouth lift, hidden beneath his mask.

“Good to hear it, ‘cause I sure as hell ain’t giving up after four years of being a detective.” The officer laughs and Michael grins.

_‘Fuck me if I call it quits now.’_

\---

**9:33 AM**

It is just past nine thirty and Gavin is in the sitting area of the room, contents of the black folder spread out on a table in front of him. He’s been awake for a while and Dan is in the shower when a knock comes at their door. Torn between being grateful for a distraction and unhappy about being taken away from the file, he gets up to answer the door.

“Oh, hey Geoff. Come in, Dan’s just getting ready, but it should be a bit before he’s done.” Gavin greets and Geoff walks in, eyes taking in the furnishings with an appreciative and slightly jealous eye.

“Damn, when you said MESA didn’t hold out, you weren’t kidding. This place is classy as dicks.” Gavin laughs as he hears the shower turn off.

“So…” Gavin starts and Geoff gives him a sleepy lidded stare.

“So?” Geoff parrots back and Gavin’s mouth dips.

“I may have called you, but we still have time to talk. That detective of yours, Michael, yes?” Gavin prods, but Geoff looks away.

“What about Michael?”

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Where Geoff had been side eyeing him, he’s completely stopped looking now. Blue eyes stay firmly locked on the far wall, but Gavin’s stare does not falter. If anything it intensifies, hardens into something tangible that forces Geoff to talk.

“No, no why would he need to know?” The dark haired man stutters out finally and Gavin listens to the silence that tells him Dan is listening.

“It’s bad form to eavesdrop, B. You can come out; you need to be part of this conversation anyhow.” Meekly, very much like a dog with its tail between its legs, Dan steps out of the bathroom and pads over to them, bare feet silent while the hems of his pant legs whisper across the lushly carpeted floor. “Now then, tell me Geoff. Why doesn’t Michael need to know?” It’s awful and strange to say the name of a man that thinks him dead. Gavin has never been superstitious, not even in his life before he was turned, but the taste of the detective’s name is a sour thing. Because Gavin is very much alive, and well, but the bespectacled man who never got a chance to know him doesn’t know that. Michael _doesn’t know,_ and it appears to Gavin clear as day that Geoff had no intention of telling him the truth.

“Gavin, you have to understand, Michael is a friend of mine first and a co-worker second. I trust you, fucking hell do I trust you, but I didn’t and still don’t want him involved in your side of things. God knows he can take care of himself. But while he can handle death, he’s never seen a man die right in front of him. What the fuck do think it would do to him to know that you can come back from a ten story drop? Can you tell me, Gavin, can you?” Geoff’s outburst is long winded and definitely a result of feelings long bottled up. He’s making eye contact with Gavin now, but his chest is heaving and Gavin can hear the man’s pulse thundering like a drum. Desperation leaps out at him and Gavin lets Geoff wallow in his emotions before sending out a wave of ‘calm down, clear your head. You’ve said your piece.’ It takes a moment, or three for it to kick in, but by then Geoff’s breathing slows and his pulse returns to normal.

“Done?” Gavin inquires and Geoff nods, but it is a slow thing. “Dan, what do you think?”

“I think that this Michael should be told the truth when the time comes, because it will come. We can’t walk into the station and not expect him to react. If he demands honesty, it’s best to give it to him. It was bloody awful when I heard about what you’d done, B. And I knew what you were capable of.” Dan’s answer is logical, but cruel. Gavin can see Geoff warring with himself. Agree or disagree?

“Geoff, if you decide to keep it from him any longer than you already have, the truth will out and not of your accord. Do you want to deal with the consequences then, or get them over with now? We have work to do, but we can’t do it if there’s a rift in the team.” Minutes pass, and the clock ticks nine forty nine before Geoff opens his mouth.

“When it comes to it, we’ll tell him. The both of us.” Geoff’s voice is clear, the epitome of a leader, but grudging. Gavin’s lips quirk into a fond smile nonetheless. Geoffrey Ramsey, his father upon American soil, but still a stubborn child at heart.

“Agreed.”

\---

**10:03 AM**

When Ryan and Michael get back with the body, Geoff is still nowhere to be seen. The bullpen is nowhere near empty, but it’s quiet, the sounds of papers rustling and being flipped and the tapping of keyboard keys are the only interruptions. And when Joel comes to collect the body, he is sombre, silent, face drawn and weary and Michael knows the case is wearing on everyone.

“We should head over to the conference room and tell the others what we figured out. Joel will call us when he finds something.” Ryan’s phrasing denotes confidence, but his tone is strained, unsure. Michael, merciful as he is not, says nothing about this and instead nods.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Their footfalls sound hollow as the make their way out of the bullpen, and Michael can still feel the press of the surgical mask against his face though he discarded it before he got back. The memory of the body rests in his mind and the smell of death lingers in his nose. It makes him sick, but not where he wants to throw up.

\---

The guys have all been brought up to speed when the conference doors open, Geoff strolling in with a tall, dark haired man in tow.

“All right cocksuckers, I talked to Burnie and he got us some help. Make them feel welcome.” Michael can see Geoff continuing his spiel in his periphery, but his entire focus on the man that comes in behind Geoff and the other man. His eyes take in wild, sandy hair and eyes like the sea, and he takes in a breath. It was _him._ A memory comes to him as Geoff and the new comers enter the room.

_“He didn’t have any identification on him, so we’ve got nothing.” Joel reports and Michael frowns. His eyes never leave Gavin’s face though, even as he replies._

_“He said his name was Gavin, never got a last name.” He can hear Joel move, but his eyes still remain on Gavin’s motionless form._

_“Damn. Well, we fingerprinted him and sent out the results, but we won’t get anything back for a bit. Some base info would be nice.” Though Michael does nothing, he’s inclined to agree._

_“Free.” Both men jump and turn to look at Geoff who stands in the door._

_“What?” Michael asks, but Geoff’s face crumples and he looks away._

_“His name was Gavin Free.” He clarifies and Michael swallows._

_“How do you know that?” Michael asks and Geoff tosses him a broken look._

_“He was a friend of Burnie’s, then a friend of mine and Griffon’s.” Geoff says. “He even played around with Audree when he had the time. Kid loved him, and I guess he loved her too.” He adds, almost as an afterthought. And as if Michael didn’t feel like shit for not being able to talk Gavin down already, learning what he meant to Geoff and his family makes it infinitely worse. He knows Geoff doesn’t mean it like that though. After all, Gavin’s death is more of a loss to him than it ever could be to Michael, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. He’s never lost anyone, at least not by jumping off a roof._

_“At least someone got to know him.” Michael says, and if both Joel and Geoff pick up on the bitter inflection in his voice, they don’t say anything._

“Michael? Hey, Michael, you okay man?” A voice pulls him out of his reverie and Michael finds his vision taken up by a worried looking Kerry.

“What?”

“Kerry’s right man, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Remarks Chris and Michael chokes.

“Y-you’ve got no fucking idea.” His voice has grown hoarse as if from disuse and everyone is staring at him, the unnamed man and _Gavin, fucking Gavin,_ included.

“Hello everyone.” Gavin says and the others turn to give him wide eyed looks, clearly not expecting the accent. Removing his gaze from him, Michael looks to Geoff and immediately tries to squash the growing sympathy within him. By the look on his face, Geoff is uncomfortable but Michael is willing himself not to care. He’s going through the motions as everyone gravitates near the conference table, Gavin now standing between Geoff and the dark haired man. Silence reigns supreme.

“Well, the both of you already know who I am, but this is Ryan Haywood. He’s running primary on the case.” Ryan lifts a hand to identify himself and Gavin and the other man nod. “Those two little shits are Chris Demarais and Kerry Shawcross.” Both raise their hands respectively. “And last, but not least we have Michael Jones, resident spitfire.” As Michael remains where he stands, Gavin steps forward and walks over to him, a hand outstretched.

“Hello Detective Jones, I’m Agent Gavin Greenaway.” While Michael takes Gavin’s hand, his gaze stays steadfastly on the agent’s face. “My friend, and fellow agent, is Daniel Gruchy.” Michael’s eyes train on Daniel as the man waves, an unsure smile curving his lips.

“That’s me, but Dan’s just fine.” Forcing himself to move, Michael lets go of Gavin’s hand and nods.

“Michael.” He says and Dan tilts his head.

“Hm?” Michael breathes out, suddenly calm.

“If we get to call you Dan, you can call me by my first name. Fuck none of us do that last name shit either.” At Michael’s statement the conference room erupts into laughter and a strange relief fills Michael. Tension still runs rampant, but it’s less of a concern now. He thanks whoever for small mercies. But, there is still something he needs to address.

“Hey Geoff, can I talk to you for a minute?” Geoff nods and Michael is grateful for his silence.

While the others are left to explain to Gavin and Dan about the case, Michael and Geoff stand in the hall, backs against the wall opposite to one another. Their gazes are locked and no one is talking, but while Michael has all these things he wants to say, he has no idea how to say them. Thankfully, Geoff speaks up saving Michael from rummaging through his thoughts.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?” Geoff asks and Michael’s hands clench from where they’re shoved into the pockets of his pants.

“You said there’d be one agent coming over.” Michael says and Geoff narrows his eyes at him.

“I did say that. But that’s because when I talked to Burnie, he told me to expect an Agent Greenaway. I didn’t know about Gruchy until I picked them up at the airport.” Now that he’s out of the room, Michael can feel the anger raging within him. It coils in his gut like it’s alive and ready to strike. All it needs it a target.

“That too. You picked them up. You could have told us, but you practically dropped them on us like a bomb.” If he wants to get his point across he needs to stay calm. The anger is still snapping away and Michael is trying to keep it at bay, but letting it out, taking it out on Geoff will get him nowhere.

“I didn’t want you guys forming opinions on them before they even got to the station, Michael. Sure we fucking called them in, but they came over. The least we can offer them is civility.”

“What the fuck, Geoff? You think we’re that bad? You think we can’t control ourselves? We’re not kids, Ramsey.” Michael’s voice is rising higher and higher, but he’s far, _far_ away from stopping it. Even Geoff, whose hooded eyes suggest a level of calm, looks angry.

“Really? You’re not a kid? You? You’ve been working yourself to the bone for months, not letting anyone worry about you, pushing people away if they show how they care! How is that not childish, Michael? And why the fuck won’t you won’t let anyone take care of you?” The question sets Michael off, but he doesn’t explode in a fit of rage. No, instead he calms, comes back down, but the anger is still there. But it isn’t directed at Geoff, not anymore. No…

“You wanna know why? Fine. _Fine._ Two years ago a man made his way to the roof of a ten story building and it was obvious he was gonna jump. And I was sent up to stop him, but guess what happened? I had one job. Talk him down you said. You’re the only one that can, you didn’t say, but it was implied. I had one job, and I fucked it up. And now a man who looks like the one I couldn’t save is standing in the conference room on the pretense that he’s here to help us with a case. And you’re worried about showing them civility?”

Michael has a reputation built up around his anger, but he’s careful. He takes every measure to keep people out of the firing range if he can. The target isn’t Geoff. The target is Michael’s own self.

For a while Geoff just stares, eyes so wide that Michael can clearly see the blue, but the presence that once settled him is just making things worse and Michael is making to turn away, moving to head back to the conference room, but something stops him. That something is Geoff’s hand.

“I’m worried about you, dickhead.” Geoff says voice quiet. And Michael is prepared to fight, ready to shake himself loose, but Geoff lets go and walks in the direction of the conference room. He stops when he’s a few paces away from the door. “You ready to work?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

\---

**10:41 AM**

“You already know what’s responsible, don’t you B?” Dan whispers in Gavin’s ear and Gavin inclines his head.

“Yes, I do, but it’s all a matter of telling these people in a way that is believable. MESA is a shadow agency for a reason.”

“Well you have Geoff on your side don’t you? He’s their chief as well, ain’t he?”

“He is, but authority doesn’t guarantee belief.” Gavin hears Dan chuckle.

“Are you really Gavin Free? You’re much more logical than I remember you being.” Gavin smiles, but it’s cheerless.

“It’s been many years, B. People can change, you would know.” He whispers back and he can feel the regret coming off Dan like a breeze blowing through tree leaves almost immediately.

“That I do know. Jesus, what a miserable business we’ve gotten into.” Gavin doesn’t speak, just hums in the affirmative.

“So have you dealt with many cases like this before?” A voice asks and Gavin looks away from Dan to see that Detective Haywood had spoken. The working din from before dies down and Gavin is keenly aware that everyone has their ears open for his reply.

“I’ve worked a serial case before, but nothing similar to this.” Haywood nods seemingly in approval and Gavin nods in kind, looking away when the detective focuses back on his laptop.

“Have you been to America before you were called here?” Someone else asks and Gavin finds himself meeting gazes with Detective Jones, _Michael_ , he reminds himself.

“Yes, twice before. The first was a work related matter and the second personal.” Gavin replies. And though Michael’s emotions change, his face does not. _‘Such composure, what did you do to have such a tether on it?’_ Gavin wonders.

“Is it all right if I ask about the first time?” Michael’s face appears curious, wondering, and Gavin would applaud him for it if he did not know it was a mask for the pain he felt curling around the detective.

“It’s fine. I was here on integration work which is my main duty at MESA.”

“Integration?” Haywood interjects to which Gavin replies with a simple ‘yes.’

“What do you mean by integration?” Michael asks and Gavin puts down the papers he’d been reading.

“SI or Supernatural Integration is the department that I work for. My job is to ease new supernaturals into their new lives, get them used to their new abilities and such. And normally an SI agent wouldn’t work on ‘field cases’ such as this, but circumstances usually end up in me doing so anyway.” Halfway through Gavin’s explanation, all movement in the conference room halts. Even when he’s finished, no one moves, not Michael who asked, not Geoff who looks like a deer in headlights and not even Dan whose stare Gavin can feel.

“What do you mean by supernatural?” Michael asks slowly and Gavin looks to Geoff, then Dan before he answers. Any emotion he feels melts away until all that shows on his face is an expression of neutral professionalism.

“What do you think I mean by it?”

For what feels like ages, no one says a word. Gavin, who has his gaze solely focused on Michael, watches as an array of emotions plays across his face.

“There’s nothing supernatural about this case.” Michael finally says tone vehement.

“Really? Then it’s rather impressive that a human could be capable of such murders. What was the cause of death again?”

“Exsanguination.” Haywood supplies and Michael’s face twists.

“Our pathologist says a boring instrument was used to create the wounds.”

“Is that so? I thought I read the word ‘speculate’ in the autopsies. But what of the most recent murder? You saw the crime scene photos, surely?”

“Of course I fucking saw them, but that doesn’t mean something supernatural is at work.” Gavin hears rather than sees Dan shift and he brings up a hand.

“It’s fine, Dan.” Dan subsides, but not willingly, if the anger Gavin feels is any indication.

“Kerry, Chris, Ryan, do think you could leave for a bit? There’s something I want to explain to Michael.” Geoff asks, but the three of them move as if it were an order. As they leave Gavin can feel Michael seething.

“What the fuck do you have to explain to me that they can’t be here for?”

“Just let them go, Michael. You’ll thank me for it later.”

When it’s just the four of them, Geoff seems to collapse even though he’s sitting down.

“Okay, so we’re alone. Say what you have to say.”

“It’s not that simple, Michael.” The glare Michael throws at him is practically venomous, but Gavin doesn’t even flinch.

“Just because it isn’t simple doesn’t make it complicated.”

“Jesus dicks are you wrong.” Geoff laughs and Michael focuses his glare in his direction.

“Will someone just say something?” Michael screams and Gavin levels him a sad look.

“All right then. What do you see when you look at me Michael?” Gavin asks and Michael scowls.

“I see some British fuck, with stupid hair.” Michael snaps and Gavin smiles, but it lacks mirth.

“Sure, but what else?”

“I see- I see…”

“You see the guy you couldn’t save, right?” Gavin asks and Michael stops moving, his body going absolutely rigid. As it sinks in his eyes widen, his face pales and his mouth goes slack, and Gavin feels the shock, and betrayal wash over him like a tidal wave.

“You- _how the fuck_ would you know that?” Michael’s voice is just above a whisper, but his emotions are incredibly loud.

“Because that guy was, is, me. Gavin isn’t such an uncommon name, but you don’t exactly hear it every day, do you?”

“Then how the fuck’re you alive?” The ferocity in Michael’s tone has Gavin looking marginally sheepish. He brings his hands together and lets his gaze fall to them.

“If I promise to explain, will you wait until I’m done to ask questions?” He asks with his eyes still on his clasped hands.

“Sure, fine.” Michael mutters stringently. “But I expect an answer for any and all of the questions I ask.” Gavin just gives Michael a solemn nod even though Michael won’t look at him. Before he starts, Gavin looks to Geoff and levels him with an authoritative stare.

“Remember what we agreed on, Geoffrey. I’m not going to give you a chance to bunk out on this.”

“I know.” Geoff declares, but it lacks conviction. He wants to keep the attention off of him, Gavin realizes while Geoff looks away.  

“Geoff.” Gavin says trying to make Geoff look at him.

“I fucking know, Gavin. I know.” Geoff says, louder this time, gaze unwavering and Gavin bites back further argument. The two of them maintain eye contact until Gavin can feel Michael’s patience wearing thin. A moment passes and then Gavin orients himself to face Michael.

“Well now, to start, I myself am a supernatural being; a vampire to be specific. I’ve been one for a hundred years.” When Gavin pauses in his explanation, he waits to see if Michael will speak up. He doesn’t, but it’s very obvious that he wants to. Ignoring a part of himself that wants to show his gratitude, Gavin presses on.

“For eighty five of those years, I’ve been working for MESA or the Ministry of Empyrean and Supernatural Affairs. The agency has grown since its inception, expanding over several continents, but it was nameless in its formative years and was originally a society formed to provide vampires and other supernatural beings a safe haven of sorts. As you can obviously tell, things have changed.

“To keep up with the times, and the different needs the supernatural population had, facets other than supernatural security were created. One such facet is the SI Department where I work.”

“That doesn’t explain why you think something supernatural is responsible for the killings.”

“Actually it does.” Says Geoff and Michael slants him a look.

“How so?”

“You recall Detective Haywood asking me if I had worked on a case similar to this, yes?”

“Yeah, that was just a little while ago.” Michael answers in a tone like he thinks Gavin stupid.

“And I said it wasn’t similar, correct?” Gavin continues.

“Why are you asking me? You’re the one that said it.”

“True, but I worded my answer in such way for a different reason than you’re thinking.”

“And what would that be?” Either through sheer force of will, or an instilled, more likely forced politeness in part of him living in Texas for long enough, the look on Michael’s face can’t be called a sneer. But it was close.

Though Michael had been admittedly gracious upon Gavin and Dan’s arrival, he didn’t sound too impressed with them now, especially with the direction of Gavin’s questioning. But Michael deserved answers even if Geoff was reluctant about giving them to him. Gavin had no such compunctions. He’d made a horrible mistake two years ago when he’d assumed Michael’s career in law enforcement had made him almost impervious to death. Gavin had learned the hard way what assumptions lead to. So, even at the risk of having Michael hate him, it would be better in the long run to tell him the truth than to avoid it like Geoff wanted to.

“I haven’t worked on a case similar to this one because the serial case I did work on _wasn’t_ similar. It was exactly like this, down to the type of culprit and their method of killing. In the previous case, the killer was a vampire gone feral. She went from luring her victims to where she could kill them uninterrupted, to hunting them in the streets, just like your killer is doing now. She’d slaughtered three people before she was caught and that’s only because she specialized in stealth and was therefore difficult to track.”

Once Gavin finishes, he leans back in his seat and waits. Though his specialty is reading people, specifically reading their emotions, no one is predictable and he’d be foolish to think so.

The clock reads half eleven and the sun, though high in the sky, is still low enough to shine through the conference room windows. Even with his photosensitivity, he couldn’t help but notice how its rays illuminated Michael’s auburn hair, giving it a coppery sheen. The man was beautiful, even in his rage which Gavin could see and feel. And Gavin was a connoisseur of pretty things.

For a long time, Michael doesn’t talk. No one does, not Dan who knew little of the situation though he’d been told, and not even Geoff who’d been in the thick of it. Gavin, Gavin dared not breathe a word in fear of fucking up badly enough to make it so Michael wouldn’t even want to work with him. It was selfish to keep silent for fear of losing chances to interact with him, but Gavin had always been a selfish creature, even in his human years. It was a hard habit to break, the want, the craving for something he didn’t have. And Michael with his brown eyes, curly hair, and tattooed skin was something Gavin did not have down to the warmth of his flesh and his beating heart.

“Okay sure, you’re a vampire and the killer’s a vampire, but that doesn’t explain why you lied to me.”

“Michael…” Geoff tries, but Michael immediately shuts him down.

“Two years. For two years you fucking kept it from me that he wasn’t dead. _Two goddamned years,_ Ramsey. And for what?” His voice grows louder as each word leaves him, but he isn’t yelling like Gavin understands he wants to. Even still, Geoff being his chief, his superior, takes a back seat to his anger and incredulity. Shock, rage, betrayal and startlingly _relief_ cycle around him and Gavin doesn’t even try to counter the emotions. Michael had been bottling it up for years and he needed and _deserved_ to let them out. He just hoped the aftermath would be easy to clean up.

“I was trying to protect you, okay? If you knew the truth, if you’d have gotten involved, I don’t know if you’d even be here today.” Geoff’s voice cracks, like it always does, but it’s taken on a frantic edge.

“Geoffrey.” Gavin’s voice snaps like a whip, but Geoff continues on.

“I’m not going to lie to him, Gavin! That asshole is still out there, _you_ of all people should understand where I’m coming from!” In the midst of his yelling, Geoff had stood, and he leant towards Gavin across the table as if seeking leverage, as if the sheer volume of his voice wasn’t enough to get his point across. Gavin thought it made him look desperate. And scared.

“I do, but I was only in recovery for four months and Dan made sure you were updated as often as possible. You could have told Michael the truth a year ago. Hell, he deserved to know they day I jumped!”

Emotions swirled around the conference room like wisps of angry coloured smoke, snapping like maws and whipping like chains and Gavin could feel the strain physically, tearing at him and bearing down upon his shoulders. But he couldn’t afford to break, not just yet.

“And _I_ think that I don’t deserve to be talked about as if I’m not here!” Now Michael was screaming, his voice definitely loud enough for others in the hall to hear and for Dan to flinch at the volume. In that moment, Gavin didn’t envy his friend’s heightened hearing.

“You’re right, Michael, I’m sorry.” Gavin says quickly, but all he gets is a glare. A glare so sharp it cuts him to the _bone._

“I’m afraid ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it. I was lead to believe that you were going to _die_ if I didn’t talk you down from that ledge, but obviously not because _here you are_.” Gavin flinches back at that, but Michael goes on even though it’s obvious he's noticed. “So here’s how it is. You and your friend may have been called over and I may have to work with you, but fuck you if you think that means something.” Michael announces as he points at Gavin’s face. “And you.” He says pointing to Geoff. “There is nothing you can do to make me trust you outside a professional capacity. Turns out I’m not the only one that fucked up that day.” As soon as the final word leaves his lips Michael storms from the room leaving Gavin to stare after him while Dan hangs his head as he leans against the wall. Geoff collapses into his chair.

“He’ll get over it.” Geoff states in an unconvincing tone while burying his head in his arms. Though the circus that was the morning has exhausted his ability, Gavin sends a counter in an attempt to soothe his friend’s guilt. But it’s like putting a band aid on a wound made by a sword. He can still feel the regret bleeding through the emotional plaster.  

“But how long will that take?” Dan wonders out loud.

“I’ve no idea, and it worries me. We might not have the time.” Gavin admits.

\---

Minutes before the clock strikes noon, Ryan Haywood returns to the conference room. Alone. Geoff shifts his head as the detective sits down and peeks up at him from behind his arms.

“Where’d everybody else go?” Geoff asks once he’s settled.

“Chris and Kerry have gone to lunch on Jack’s recommendation. I have no idea where Michael went.”

“Maybe it’s better that way.” Dan says and Geoff picks his head up to level him with a disbelieving stare.

“And how would him being gone make things better?” Dan shrugs.

“Not even the most peaceful of people can think with a hectic mind. It’ll be good for him to take some time to cool off, clear his head. He’s young, but he’s already made detective, earned it. He has a good head on his shoulders, but emotions can get to even the best of us.”

“Let’s just hope he isn’t gone for too long.” Geoff’s tone rings with finality and Gavin hears Haywood take a breath.

“Would it be too soon for me to ask what was missed?” The detective asks with an air of hesitancy and Gavin looks to him wordlessly until the man meets his gaze.

“Do you know what MESA stands for, Detective Haywood?”

“It sounds familiar, but I don’t think I ever heard what it stood for, no.”

“It stands for The Ministry of Empyrean and Supernatural Affairs.”

“There’s that word again, supernatural. You said the killer was such a being?”

“Yes, and both Dan and I as well are classified as supernatural beings.” Haywood nods as if he’s known all along, but when he focuses on Gavin again his eyes are wide.

“If that’s so, what-”

“What are we?” Dan finishes.

“If you don’t mind.” Haywood confirms delicately.

“Well I’m officially classified as a lycanthrope, but werewolf works I suppose.” Dan answers so casually that Haywood actually takes pause.

“And you Agent Greenaway?” He asks once he’s collected himself.

“I share a classification with your killer, unfortunately.”

“Which would be?” There’s a hardened look to the detective now and Gavin can feel protectiveness mingling with genuine curiosity. It’s an interesting combination. One Gavin had seen a handful of times before in newly turned supernaturals, specifically werewolves.

“He’s a vampire.” Geoff interrupts and Haywood turns his head sharply to look at him. The curiosity fades, but the protectiveness remains.

“Well then, that makes things all sorts of interesting.”

“That’s one way to look at it.” Geoff scoffs.

“Would it be rude to cut in and ask if we could see the body?” Asks Dan and in turn Haywood looks perplexed.

“But I thought you’d reviewed the crime scene photos.” Gavin clears his throat and Haywood looks to him.

“I did, but while a picture says a thousand words, the real thing tends to get to the point quicker.”

“I’ll tell Joel to expect you then.” Are Geoff’s parting words and neither Gavin or Dan or Detective Haywood have a chance to say anything before he’s gone.

“And then there were three.” Dan remarks with an air of trepidation. His years as a wolf taught him how to recognize someone higher on the chain than him. Haywood wasn’t an alpha, not even a beta, but it was clear that it was by choice. Dan had claimed the leadership position of his and Gavin’s two man pack, but only because Gavin had let him. Them being two different beings made it difficult to keep the pack dynamic even with Gavin’s accumulated knowledge and Haywood was a variable.

The silence that Geoff’s absence brings is tense and awkward. Gavin can hear the rustle of clothing as Dan fidgets and Gavin himself is unable to remain still. As he wrings his hands his knee shakes sending tremors through the conference table that Detective Haywood can definitely feel.

“So integration, what’s that like?” Haywood asks and Gavin blinks.

“Oh, uh well, the SI department deals in counselling and teaching new supernaturals about our world and helping them acclimate into their new lifestyles. Also, while every case differs, standard procedure consists of visits at the discretion of the charge. They have to be frequent though and at regular intervals throughout at least a year.” Though finished with his explanation, Gavin could sense that hearing about his job wasn’t what Haywood really wanted.

“And how do you know Geoff?” There it was.

“While MESA has branches in the States, I was recommended for an integration job here in Texas. It was during a time where supernatural activity was high, and the small branch that handled affairs here was located in Dallas. They were short staffed and dealing with a high number of cases, so I was called in.

“A woman, who had been recently changed by a werewolf, had been turned away by the Dallas branch. But her circumstances were, not quite dire, but desperate all the same. She was married and had a child, and while her husband was supportive, she herself could see that she needed help. So she asked around, found a way to get a hold of Head Quarters, and her case was given to me. That woman was Griffon Ramsey.” Haywood didn’t show it, but Gavin could feel his surprise.

“Her case didn’t follow standard procedure, did it?”

“No. For starters, MESA regulation stipulates that integration cases fall under the jurisdiction of the state the charge resides in. However, circumstances lead Griffon to seek help outside of borders, in which case an SI worker is required to stay with their charge for a period of three to six months depending on how far the SI worker had to travel. Guess how long I stayed.”

“Six months?” Haywood tries and Gavin smiles and shakes his head. As Gavin prepares to tell his story, the warmth of fondness spreads throughout the room and Gavin watches, relieved, as Haywood relaxes.

“I was supposed to, but how do you expect someone to follow regulation when the family of your charge takes you in and effectively claims you as one of their own?” Haywood smiles softly at that.

“So how long did you actually stay?”

“I lived with the Ramseys for eighteen months, a year longer than I was required to.”

“And then you left.” Haywood states.

“And then I left.” Gavin agrees. “But it was far from easy. Their house became a home away from home. For the first six months Dan called just to say ‘hi’ and get updates which he would relay to the director. At eight months he started asking when I’d be home. At twelve that was all he did.”

“I gave up thirteen months in. It was obvious the case was complete, but he wouldn’t be coming back unless he was ordered to.” Dan interjects and Gavin smirks.

“And were you? Ordered to go back?”

“Yes, but the director was kind and let me stay for two months. By then I was ready to say goodbye, though Griffon made me swear to stay in touch. I obviously agreed.”

“What was your second visit about?” Haywood asks and the mood drops significantly. But Gavin had made a promise to be truthful. Even if it were for Michael’s sake, the dynamic of the Austin Police Department made it so that the promise extended to every member under the station’s roof. He’d already tested the waters, now it was time to dive in.

“Two years ago, or two and half years after I’d left Texas, I got a call at home just after ten at night. It was a long distance call, but I recognized the number and picked up immediately. It was Griffon and it sounded like she’d been crying. Her daughter, Audree, who I’d come to think of as a little sister, had been kidnapped by the one responsible for changing her. She could have called the Dallas branch again, it was their jurisdiction, but they’d become my family, I had to help.

“After she hung up I called Dan who was working at the time and I told him the situation. Then, using what influence I had, I packed my things and took a direct flight to Austin. I’d been back in the States for a little over a day before Audree’s kidnapper contacted us. He’d sent a package in the mail which contained a phone and a Bluetooth earpiece. This little ‘care package’ also contained a note which basically told me I had a choice. ‘Find the highest point in town and dive for her freedom’ was what it said. I’d already made the decision to jump when Michael got to the roof. I thought he could handle my apparent death, but...” This admission drew a frown on the detective’s face.

“Considering the atmosphere I arrived to, I’m guessing he didn’t take you or Geoff hiding the truth from him very well.” Haywood’s tone wasn’t accusatory, far from it, but it made his statement no less hurtful. Gavin supresses a wince, but the pain makes itself known on his face, lowering his gaze and furrowing his brow. Mercifully, Haywood doesn’t comment on it.

“No, he didn’t.” Gavin looks up. “But I had every intention of letting him know what had happened as soon as I was recovered. But then I was suspended from work for two months and then put on desk duty and by then it was too late. Too much time had gone by, or at least that’s what Geoff said when I tried to convince him to tell Michael the truth. And selfish, cowardly me agreed with him. So the rest of the year passed, and then another went by but neither of us said anything.”

“And now here you are.” Haywood says.

“And now here I am.” Gavin echoes and Haywood throws him a pitying look. Before he can say anything else, however, Geoff gets back.  

“I talked to Joel. He’s waiting for you in the morgue.” He says, gesturing behind him.

Dan pushes off the wall and heads for the door, but Gavin remains seated.

“You coming, B?” He asks, but Gavin maintains his focus on Haywood.

“Yeah, just gotta do something first.” Dan’s curiosity piques but Geoff pulls him into the hall before he can say even a word.

“Something else on your mind, Agent Greenaway?” Haywood asks, voice low and smooth and slow like pouring molasses.

“I wanted to thank you, Detective Haywood.” Gavin replies and Haywood raises a questioning brow.

“Thank me? What for?” It’s the sincerity of the man’s confusion that has Gavin smiling.  

“For listening to me.” Gavin states simply, and then he leaves the room, meeting Dan and Geoff in the hall, letting the latter lead him to the morgue.

\---

**12:06 PM**

It’s only while on their way to the morgue that Geoff remembers that Michael wasn’t the only one who thought Gavin had died. Joel had had Gavin on his table and though the pathologist hadn’t been as torn up as Michael had about Gavin’s supposed death, Geoff was apprehensive about his reaction to seeing a man he’d confirmed deceased up and walking.

“Are you okay, Geoff?” Stopping mid-step, he turns around and looks to Gavin.

“Huh?”

“He’s right. You look stiff as board. Is there something wrong?” This comes from Dan who has a similarly puzzled expression on his face.

“I just- Joel was the one who examined Gavin the day he jumped.”

“Oh.” Says Dan.

“Uh huh.” Geoff replies wearily.

“That’ll make for some awkward conversation.” Dan quips and Gavin struggles, and almost fails, to supress a laugh.

“Oh fuck off, dickhead.” Geoff grouses, but Gavin can feel his worry alleviating, if only just a bit. He tosses Dan a grateful look, but turns away when his friend’s lips threaten to pull into a grin. Dan’s laughter was infectious after all.

“You all right to go on, Chief Ramsey?” Gavin questions and Geoff narrows his eyes at him.

“Sure, come on chucklefucks, to Heyman’s lab we go.” Dan, ever the soldier, snaps a salute and Geoff’s lips turn down in an exaggerated frown.

“He was in the military once upon a time, kind of like you Geoff.”

“Indeed I was, the salute’s just instinct, I swear.”

“Oh fuck off.” With the tension eased out of the way, Geoff appears more focused, less gloomy about Michael leaving, and thus leads Dan and Gavin to the pathologist’s lab with a purposeful stride.

\---

**Meanwhile…**

It’s been a while since Michael has been this angry, but it’s the first time he’s ever felt betrayed. Sure, as a kid he’d believed in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny, but the truth of their authenticity had never really struck a chord in him as violently as Geoff hiding the truth about Gavin did. Then again, Gavin was _real_. He wasn’t human, and god that was terrifying to think about, but that day on the roof Michael had believed he was. He’d believed that the image of Gavin falling was the last he’d ever get to see of him.

The first days afterward were awful. Between the nightmares, the guilt; simply recalling the image of Gavin’s sad smile, hearing the echo of his voice when he said what Michael had thought were his last words wrapped around his neck like chains that grew tighter each time he remembered. And now that Gavin was back, now that Michael had to work with him, it was if he was the one choking him.

After basically running out of the station, high on emotion, Michael had walked and walked and walked and somehow ended up sitting on a park bench. Joggers make loops along the path and couples hold hands and giggle to each other. Michael pretends the sight of them doesn’t make his bad mood worse. He’s not jealous, but he is. Fucking hell.

Looking away from them, Michael’s gaze moves over to the field where a bunch of what look like university students are playing something. Another glance tells Michael that soccer is the game. The jealousy flares up again, but any other thoughts are halted when the ball comes careening in his direction, ricocheting off the arm of the bench launching it into the trees behind the bench he sits on. Seconds later a student, presumably the one that kicked the ball over, comes running up, stopping a couple of feet away from Michael. He bends at the waist and plants his hands on his knees panting.

“Really sorry about that man.” The guy’s voice has a bit of stereotypical southern twang in his voice and it takes a lot for Michael not laugh.

“No worries, dude. It’s not like it hit me. You’re good.” The look the kid throws him can only be called thankful, but it’s quickly replaced by a disgruntled frown.

“Aw fuck, did you see where it went?” The kid asks and Michael moves in his seat, craning his neck to look in the direction the kid was looking in.

“Kinda. Just saw a black and white blur whiz into the trees. Sorry.” Michael tacks on the apology when the look on the kid’s face grows disappointed.

“Damn.”

“I could help you look for it if you want.” Michael says and the kid stares. It’s then that Michael remembers how he’s dressed and how he appears to the public. He’d left his jacket back at the station, but he was still dressed in what passed for official looking clothes, the look completed by the black tie looped around his neck. Though he’d left his gun back at the station…

“Are you sure?” Michael looks to the trees again. The ball is nowhere to be seen, but it can’t have gotten far.

“Yeah, c’mon.” He gets up from the bench, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows, exposing his tattoos.

“Nice ink work, man.” The kid compliments as he follows after, and Michael grins quickly, tossing a ‘thanks’ over his shoulder.

Everything is darker in the shade of the trees, but they find the ball quickly enough. Once he has it in his hands, the kid books it out of the copse, stopping by the bench. Michael realizes the kid is waiting for him when he doesn’t move from his spot.

“Thanks for the help. You, uh, wanna play a game?” Michael takes pause.

“I don’t think I should. My job-” He cuts himself off. What was stopping him? _A case,_ his own mind hisses at him.Yeah sure, a case. _A fucking serial case, Jones._ True, there was truth in that, but it wasn’t long ago that people were practically begging him to take time off. And Michael _really_ didn’t want to go back to the station just yet. Vestiges of anger still tore at him, betrayal tramped about his mind with steel toed boots, and the thought of burning away those feeling with physical exertion sounded better than exploding at a co-worker who didn’t deserve it. It’s then that Michael makes a decision.

“So…”

“I’ll play, but only for a little while.”

“How come?”

“My breaks don’t last long enough for a full game, kid.” Michael supplies. There was no way he was telling him about the murders. The kid might already know, but Michael didn’t want to risk it.

“Well that fucking sucks.” The kid gripes and Michael lets out a gunshot laugh.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

And so for the next twenty minutes Michael runs around with a bunch of university students and kicks a soccer ball into a makeshift goal made out of back packs. The team he’s on wins by two points, both scored by him. Once the game ends, the losing team agrees to treat the victors to ice cold drinks. At first Michael declines, saying he can pay for himself, but the kid, Peter as Michael had learnt, shrugged him off and paid for his coke anyways.

“That was a pretty good game.” A kid with dark skin and a megawatt smile comments and Michael can’t help a grin.

“Sure fucking was.” Peter agrees and Michael takes a large gulp of his drink.

“So dude, Michael, what do you do?” Smilie asks and Michael freezes with the cup still to his lips. He takes another large sip, throat suddenly gone dry.

Did he tell the truth? No, no. The truth was awful, the truth hurt, and though Geoff wasn’t as strict on regulations as he should have been, he still frowned upon letting the public be privy to investigations. Especially when Caleb, the department’s media liaison, recommended details be kept secret. But Michael was still angry at Geoff. The exercise from playing soccer had burnt most of the rage away, but embers still remained. And even the slightest bit of fanning could start the flames up again.

Not the whole truth then.

“I’m in law enforcement.” Michael states simply.

“Wait, what?” Another kid, this one with a mohawk, asks.

“Jesus, what did you think I did?”

“I dunno, finance?” Asks Smilie and Michael scoffs.

“Oh hell, no. Money’s great, but it’s boring.”

“Fuck me.” Whispers Mohawk and Michael’s face twists in an exaggerated grimace.

“No thanks.” The entire group, except for Peter, erupts in laughter at Michael’s remark. Once all the giggles, snickers and chuckles die down, Peter speaks.

“Are you working on a case then? Is that why you told me you couldn’t play a full game?”

“Kinda. It’s nothing big, but being a man of the law ain’t easy.” Michael lies. But Peter takes this answer with no fuss, and thankfully, _mercifully_ , no one asks anymore questions about Michael’s job.

A little while later Michael is heading back at the station and marvelling at how far his legs had taken him. He’d walked aimlessly in his anger and it showed. The walk back to the station was shorter than his walk to the park had been, but then again he’d never had a destination in mind when he’d left. Knowing where he was going made things go quicker and by the time he got back, his drink was done and he was hot and sweaty. He’d gone to the washroom to clean up a bit and was just leaving when someone called to him.

“Oh Michael, hey.” When Michael looks, he finds Ryan moving towards him.

“Hey.” Michael greets. The two of them stand silently, awkwardly, no one speaking for what feels like a long while. But when Michael checks the clock, it’s barely been a minute.

“You look like you ran a marathon. Is it that hot out?” Ryan asks quite clearly trying to get Michael to talk about where he’d gone. Luckily Michael was in a ‘giving’ mood.

“Yeah, it’s hot as fuck out. Gotta be at least ninety degrees.” Michael replies and Ryan seems to deflate. Had he been tense? Fuck, Michael hadn’t noticed.

“You… Are you okay?” Ryan asks and Michael quickly looks away.

“No, but I- I’ll be better.” Michael says and he can see Ryan nod out of the corner of his eye. Silence, ever a dogged companion, lapses over them once more. Being in the lobby if Michael looks around Ryan, he can see the bullpen is full of people, working, talking, doing other things that are discernibly not work.

“Geoff took Gruchy and Greenaway to see Joel while you were gone and then Chris and Kerry took them out to see recent crime scene.” Ryan says.

“Have they been gone long, or did they just leave?” Michael asks and Ryan nods.

“They left a little while ago. Geoff and I have been doing as much work as we can while they’ve been gone. I think they might be back soon.”

“Okay. But hey, I thought they said they went over the files that were fazed over to them?”

“They did, but Greenaway made mention of Gruchy wanting to check out the scene in person. Something about checking for evidence that couldn’t strictly been seen.”

“What the fuck do they mean by that?” Ryan shrugs.

“Well Agent Gruchy is classified as a werewolf. Maybe he’ll catch the killer’s scent.” Michael scowls.

“You don’t actually believe that bullshit do you?” Michael asks derisively, but the look Ryan gives him throws him off.

“I do actually. I did some research while everyone was gone and the MESA website was particularly useful.” There’s something in Ryan’s tone that grates on Michael’s nerves and he realizes it’s because he’s just being truthful.

“What did you find out?” Michael asks desperate to change the subject.

“Well, considering our culprit, I looked up vampires and what it means for them to go feral. It varies, but most of the time, at least in documented cases, vampires go feral if they don’t feed enough. And, in rare cases, vampires can go feral if their instincts can’t be sated.”

“What are you saying Ryan?” Michael asks a bit exasperatedly and Ryan shrugs again.

“All I’m saying is that if we don’t catch this guy a lot more people are going to pay the price.”

The truth of Ryan’s statement doesn’t escape Michael. He’d come to that conclusion soon after he’d seen Lana Forde’s body in the morgue. But that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

Before Michael can regroup and reply, the sound of doors opening cuts him off and he turns to see Chris and Kerry walk in, both MESA agents behind trailing after. They’re in the midst of a conversation , Michael realizes as Gavin’s hands gesticulate with Dan nodding in response. _‘Gavin, Gavin, Gavin. Try as you might, you can’t call him by anything else, can you Michael?’_ A traitorous part of his mind rasps to him and Michael tries desperately not to acknowledge it.

He fails spectacularly.

“You guys find anything?” Ryan asks, stepping forwards and Gavin gives a thin-lipped smile.

“A little. We followed your lead and went to the Speakeasy to see if we could talk to any employees who’d been there the days the girls went missing.”

“And how’d that go?”

“Bloody difficult. As soon as we told them why we were there, they got all defensive. Said they’d already talked to the police and given their statements.” Dan says and his frustration is clear in his stance, feet spread and hands shoved into his pockets.

“So what did you get?” Michael finally speaks up and Gavin turns to look at him.

“With the help of an informant we found out that only a handful of people were at the Speakeasy the same time the girls went missing. Further questioning revealed that an even smaller group of people were seen interacting with them. And of those people, three matched the profile.”

“You get their names?” Asks Ryan and Gavin nods while Dan reaches into a pocket and hands him a slip of paper.  

“You know how to profile?” Michael asks a bit incredulously, and Gavin nods again.

“In cooperation with the Bureau, both the FBI and MESA train their agents similarly.”

“If you know how to profile, why work in integration?” Ryan asks even as he reads the list.

“I was a field agent like Dan, but I transferred departments. I found that I didn’t like it much and that I liked being part of the process of easing someone into a new life rather than putting someone away for a crime they committed. And while it’s not always the case, there were times where those arrested by field agents were supernaturals not acclimated or just unknowledgeable about the scope of their abilities.”

“Just like unloading a gun then, huh? You show them the ropes in the hopes that teaching them will keep them off the streets as it were.”

“Yes, that’s exactly it. Now, shall we head to the conference room? I could give the information out here, but I think it would be better in a proper environment.”

“Yeah, no, the conference room it is.” Ryan agrees and the six of them move to head over.

\---

**1:09 PM**

Geoff had been waiting for them when they got there, but says nothing as Gavin strides over to the white board. The rest of them seat themselves at the conference table, Dan sitting closer to Michael than he’d like, but there was nothing to do about it. Once everyone is settled, only then does Geoff say anything.

“So what have you got?” It’s a question Michael is sure he’d have gotten tired of hearing, but the anticipation for Gavin’s answer somehow deterred that notion. Maybe it was the possible promise of progress. Ryan had done a bang up job on his own, chasing leads and questioning witnesses with hardly anyone to help. But that was before he’d figured out that the murders were a work of a serial killer. It was impossible to ask him to work alone after that, and thus Geoff had taken Michael off leave even though he’d essentially forced Michael to take leave in the first place.

Gavin takes a deep breath and Michael watches as his shoulders raise. _‘Does he even need to breathe?’_ Michael wonders as Gavin exhales.

“First of all, I’d like to thank Officers Shawcross and Demarais for driving us.” When both nod in acknowledgment, Gavin gives a nod of his own. “Now, after checking out the latest crime scene we went to the Speakeasy on Congress as it was mentioned several times in the notes written by Detective Haywood. And though they were previously questioned, we spoke with employees and patrons on the pretense of developing a profile for the killer while also trying to see if their stories matched what had been previously stated.”

“And did you? Get a profile?” Geoff prods and Gavin inclines his head.

“We did and the classification of the killer hasn’t changed.” Dan replies out loud and five pairs of eyes focus on him. “We’re looking for a recently turned vampire, perhaps turned late last year or early this year if we take into account the time frame of the murders. The remains found around on streets Fifth and San Antonio imply the killings started this year and that there may be more remains that have yet to be discovered.”

“Our killer is young, around the same age as his victims and must be fairly attractive as he lured his victims excluding Miss Forde.” This comes from Gavin and everyone’s gazes shift accordingly. “Checking in with the MESA branch that oversees cases in Texas and surrounding areas, no new charges have been taken into integration which suggests the sire of our killer either had no intention of turning him or didn’t know.”

“How do you figure that?” Chris asks and Michael tries, and fails, to not watch as Gavin licks his lips.

“It is against the law to turn humans against their will and sentencing is harsh. Even so, some vampires still do it, but there is the possibility that a vampire could sire a fledgling without their knowledge.” Chris nods, but Michael isn’t satisfied.

“You said something about there being a MESA branch here in Texas?”

“Yes. It’s located in Dallas, but it oversees matters throughout the entirety of the state as well as neighbouring states like New Mexico and Louisiana.”

“If the Dallas branch has jurisdiction, why were you called in? You’re based in England aren’t you?” To Michael’s surprise it isn’t Gavin who answers, but Geoff.

“I specifically asked for Gavin to be sent in, Dan was a bonus.”

“Why the fuck would you do that? I thought Burnie pulled rank.” Looking at him it’s obvious Geoff doesn’t want to speak any further, but Michael refused to let him bitch out.

“He didn’t ‘pull rank’ and I’m sorry I’m made it seem like that, but I urged Burnie to contact the England branch and he did.” The casualness of Geoff’s tone infuriates Michael.

“ _Why?_ ” He practically hisses.

“You really wanna know?” Geoff asks angrily.

“Yes.” Michael replies, just as angry, if not more so.

“Fine, I’ll tell you why. I don’t trust the Dallas branch. They couldn’t do fucking squat to help Griffon when she got bit by some werewolf fuck six years ago. So she took things into her own hands and asked around, managing to get in contact with the branch in England. And what did they do? They sent over their best integration agent over to stay with us and guess what?” When Geoff doesn’t speak, Michael catches on that he wants Michael to say something. 

“What?” Michael reluctantly indulges and Geoff leans forward in his seat, eyes blazing and Michael leans back despite there being three feet of table between them.

“They sent Gavin over and he _got shit done_.  He helped Griffon transition, he explained to Audree what was going on without pandering to her, and he took a load off my shoulders. Then, two years ago, Audree was kidnapped by the same asshole that changed Griffon. As if taking her wasn’t bad enough, he demanded we pay him an amount of money we didn’t have. And it’s not like I could call the police. I _am_ the police for fuck’s sake. So again, Griffon takes charge and calls Gavin, only this time it’s not through proper channels. But does Gavin chicken out? No. He comes over on a direct flight, risking disciplinary action in doing so, and he goes to work.” Everything about Geoff seems to demand that Michael question him, but he isn’t moved. His answer explains why he wants Gavin in on the case, but it doesn’t answer the most important question. At least, it’s the most important to Michael.

“Okay, but if he’s so great, why did he jump then, huh? Can you tell me that? Can you?” At Michael’s words Geoff looks like he wants to scream, but Gavin interrupts before he has a chance to.

“It was an exchange, Michael. Geoff and Griffon couldn’t come up with the money to pay the ransom and Audree’s kidnapper knew it. So he proposed a trade. Me for her. Either I jumped and Audree could go free without the ransom having to be paid, or I didn’t and Audree would be hurt or worse. I’d already made up my mind when you found me.”

For a long time no one says a word. Gavin keeps eye contact with Michael whilst the others, thankfully, look away. This was it then. After years of wondering why, of questioning Gavin’s reasons, Michael knew. Before today, Michael never thought he’d get an answer and he didn’t know what he’d expected to feel now that he did, but it certainly wasn’t _this_. This hollowness, this void that had been once filled with anger and sorrow and hatred for himself for fucking up the one job he’d been given. Everything was gone, everything but the anger. 

“So when I got up there, you didn’t think at all? You didn’t think about how I would feel about having to watch you fall, about what would happen after you hit the ground, about how nearly every night I was plagued by nightmares about you jumping and taking me with you? Did you not think about that? Not at all?” Michael’s voice never goes above a whisper, but there are tears in his eyes threatening to fall and try as he might, he can’t will them away. Even with his glasses on, Gavin is blurry to him, a watery mess of white and black and charcoal grey. His vulnerability makes himself sick, makes himself angry, but yet again, Michael can’t do a thing about it.

“I made the assumption that my death would mean nothing to you. I thought that since Geoff had sent you up instead of meeting me himself, that you could handle it seeing as I wouldn’t listen to him if he tried to talk me down. But by assuming I made a horrible mistake and though you say an apology won’t cut it, I’ll say it again. I’m sorry, Michael Jones. I am so, so sorry.”

\---

**1:42 PM**

Michael doesn’t know how and when he tries to recall it’s a complete blur, but somehow the energy in the conference room shifts. Michael is sitting as far away from Gavin and Geoff as possible, reading Gavin’s written notes. The tension in the room is a weighted thing; hanging from his neck like a heavy pendant and his anger from before is muted. There are four of them in the room, Ryan had gone off to check the department’s database for any previous convicts that fit the profile and Chris and Kerry had left for their patrol shift.

Geoff and Dan sit at the end of the table closest to the white board, reading Gavin’s notes aloud while Gavin gets them on the board. The red ink of the marker is a stark contrast to the clear pane of the board and the unpainted wall behind it. Unable to resist, Michael first peers around the room then lets his gaze stay on Gavin. The agent is dressed professionally in a charcoal grey suit, no doubt tailored to fit the wearer perfectly, and it reminds Michael of the one he’d worn two years ago. He has no idea why that should matter to him, but for some unfathomable reason it does.

And then other details Michael hadn’t bothered to take notice of jump out at him. From his position he can see how tall Gavin is, how he carries himself like his good posture has been taught to him, and how his youthful face doesn’t fit the words that come out his mouth. Michael can even tell that Gavin’s hair is shorter and perhaps wilder than before. It sticks up and looks perpetually windblown and Michael quickly decides he hates the part of himself that wants to reach out and touch it, to see if it’s really as soft as it looks.  

“You’ll be okay, yeah?” Michael hears someone ask and he checks to see who’d spoken.

“I’ll be fine, B. You go and call the Director.” Gavin says and Michael watches as he and Dan seem to hold a conversation with their eyes before the other agent gets up out of his seat and heads for the door.

“Oh hey, Dan, wait for me. You can use the phone in my office. I need to check on that thing anyways.” Says Geoff, though he’s a tad stilted. But by the time Michael realizes what his chief has done; he and Dan have already gone, leaving Gavin and Michael as the only occupants of the conference room.

“What was that about?” Michael asks. Gavin doesn’t reply right away, instead maintaining focus on the white board.

“What was what about?” He asks somewhat absently while drawing lines between the pictures of the victims. Michael eyes follow the marker, watching as the red ink links two smiling faces.

“Dan and Geoff leaving the room.” Michael elaborates.

“Hm?”

“ _Gavin._ ” Michael basically hisses and Gavin’s shoulders sag.

“Dan’s gone off to talk to the Director. He was ordered to give updates, so that’s what he went to do.” Gavin says, but he doesn’t turn around. It catches Michael off guard not being able to see the other’s face, but even then would it do any good? Michael had called Gavin stupid the last time they’d talked, but Michael knew he was anything but. Gavin was over a hundred years old. That was plenty of time to learn and hone skills like keeping up a mask to hide emotions.

“And Geoff?”

“The remains that were found are evidence to the fact that there are more victims, yes?” Gavin asks and Michael is temporarily sent off track before he realizes there’s a point to Gavin’s question.

“We don’t know. Joel hasn’t gotten back to us yet.” Michael informs and he sees Gavin nod in acknowledgement.

“Hm, well Dan wondered if any current missing persons fit the killer’s type. Geoff volunteered to check for him and that’s why he left.” Gavin explains still writing.

“Okay, so while we’re on the subject, why’s he here?” Michael asks and Gavin’s arm stills.

“Who?” Gavin asks after a long pause and Michael knows he knows, but it’d be a waste of time to call him out on it. Slightly irritated, Michael breathes in deep and lets it out heavily through his nose.

“Dan. When Geoff said we’d be getting assistance on the case he only mentioned you.”

“Does his presence bother you?” Gavin asks and Michael runs a hand harshly though his hair.

“No, it doesn’t. But it’d be nice to know more about you seeing as I know so little.” At that Gavin turns to face Michael. _‘Finally!’_ Michael’s mind crows, but he makes sure not to show it.

“Fair enough.” Gavin acquiesces. He caps the marker and places it on the white board’s ledge then steps toward Michael. He stops just in front of one of the chairs and places his hands atop the backrest. Not once does he break eye contact. “Since this is technically a field case, Dan’s obligated to be here. I was specifically asked to be here, but I’m not a field agent; haven’t been since the fifties.”

“You said something about him updating your director, why?” Gavin lifts his shoulders and removes his hands from the top of the chair and slips them into his pockets.

“Ah well, he’s also here as an escort of sorts.” Gavin says, but he doesn’t sound too thrilled about it.

“More like a guard.” Says another voice and while Gavin stays turned towards him, Michael moves so he can see the both of them. The voice turns out to belong to Dan, and he doesn’t look too happy.

“Why the fuck would you need a guard?” Though the question is posed to Gavin, it’s Dan who answers.

“In case he does something reckless, like leap from a bloody building.”

“I had my reasons for that.” Gavin says sharply, but Michael can’t tell who he’s speaking to. There’s a feeling Gavin might have said it for his benefit, but his tone alludes that it was directed towards Dan. Either way, the tension in the room is _electric._

“You were in recovery for _four months!_ ” Dan snaps back and Gavin’s face goes masklike.

“ _Daniel_.” Gavin's voice is pitched low, sounding deadlier than Michael has ever heard anyone sound and it sends a chill up his spine. Meanwhile, Dan relents, but not without defiance which is shown in the stiff set of his shoulders, the tight, thin line of his lips, and his clenched hands.

Michael wants to say something, wants to ask questions that Gavin has yet to answer, but the words die in his throat when Dan says,

“Yes, sir.” And Michael can see the tension in his jaw as he clenches his teeth. His hands have gone slack, but the fire in his eyes is brighter than ever. Gavin looks just as tense, but he looks tired as well.

“What the hell?” Michael sputters before he can stop himself, but Dan doesn’t speak again.

“Drop it Michael. _Please._ ” Gavin sounds pained, but the cause eludes Michael. He wants to ask about it, but he can hear voices in the hall, sounding closer and closer with each second that passes by.

“Fine, but you’ll tell me later.” Michael demands.

“Later.” Gavin agrees.

“Am I interrupting something?” Someone asks and the three of them turn to see Ryan in the doorway, a slim looking folder in the crook of his arm.

“No.” Michael and Gavin say at the same time and Ryan gives them a look.

“Okay… So I checked and our guy isn’t in the database.” Ryan says and Gavin nods like he knew that would be the outcome.

“I thought as much. He might not have done anything before he was turned, that could be why he doesn’t turn up.”

“That crossed my mind too, so I ran the names of the three guys that matched the profile.”

“And did they show up?” Michael asks. Ryan shakes his head.

“Not a one.”

“Fuck.” Michael curses, but when he looks, Gavin doesn’t appear as disappointed. Instead he shares a look with Dan and the field agent nods.

“There’s more, ain’t there?” Dan asks.

“There is.” Ryan confirms, and Michael breathes out an exasperated sigh.

“Well, what is it?” Michael urges and Ryan enters the room proper. He moves to sit at the conference table across from Michael and beside the seat Gavin stands behind. He tosses the file onto the table top and it slides over enough so Michael doesn’t have to reach when he picks it up.

The next few minutes are spent in silence. Dan shuffles to sit down while Gavin remains standing, and Michael can feel Ryan’s gaze on him as he reads. When he gets to the end he lets the folder fall closed.

“All three guys checked out when I checked the database for previous charges, but for some reason, one of them stood out to me. He looked familiar, almost, but I was getting ready to head back here when it hit me.” He took the folder once more and opened it up to a page that had been marked with a post it note.

“Simon Wake; twenty five years of age and, as of last year, missing. He was last seen at a night club he went to with friends, but when he didn’t show up to work two days in a row, people got worried. He was declared missing a day later when it was found out that he never made it home.”

“Wake, Wake… Brandon and Jordan took that case, didn’t they?”

“They did, and they thought they had something, but the trail went cold about a month into the investigation.”

“Could Wake be our guy?” Michael asks and it’s Gavin who answers.

“Might be. When I questioned employees, they said he was a regular who talked to girls all the time.”

“We gotta tell Geoff then.”

“We gotta tell Geoff what now?” A voice asks and Michael’s head whips around.

“We have a lead,” Dan begins. “A lead that might take us closer to solving this case.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for? Get to it, lads.” Geoff gestures at them, and they all move to comply.

With Geoff, Ryan and Dan walking and talking together, Michael is more or less stuck walking along side Gavin sans conversation. Frustratingly, Michael notices the agent taking extreme care not to walk too close, but also not too far. The polite fuck. Had Gavin been a dick, Michael could justify the indignation he felt about his actions. But then again Michael could tell the distance between them was a product of consideration both natural and taught. It was awful.

When Michael was younger he’d entertained the idea of beings like vampires and werewolves existing. Hell, he’d been terrified of ghosts thanks to the overactive imagination of fellow children and the stories they told about a supposedly haunted house in his neighbourhood. And for a while, around Halloween, instead of being terrified he’d be cautious, worrying about his parents staying out late, sometimes panicking if they came home later than they said they’d return. As he grew older, his belief in the supernatural waxed and waned until his interest in the subject was limited to watching campy movies aired during the season and making fun of the stupidity of the characters in them. But here he was, walking behind a werewolf and beside a vampire. Gavin and Dan were living proof that the supernatural existed, but Michael was more preoccupied with resisting the temptation to lock himself and Gavin in a room so he could, so he could what? Talk to him? Fight him? Michael mentally scoffed. He could take care of himself, but Gavin wasn’t human. There was something unnatural in the way he moved, his movements flowing like ocean tide, sweeping and powerful, but slow like there was no need for rush. It was vexing to want to ignore his presence and to want to watch him simply _be._  

They walked for another minute then stopped in the lobby of the station, Geoff stopping just ahead and then turning to face the four of them. His face was drawn, eyes hooded but his posture reeked of authority.

“Michael, Ryan, I want the two of you to talk to who the girls were with when they went missing. Show them Wake’s picture and see if they recognize him. Also, try not to tell them he’s missing.” Both Michael and Ryan nod even as Geoff turns away from them. “Dan, Gavin, you’re with me. We’re going to see Wake’s family and check if he’s made contact.”

“What if he isn’t our guy?” Michael asks and Geoff’s gaze falls to the floor.

“He fucking better be. You saw what he did to that last girl; do you want that to happen to someone else?” Michael grimaces as streaks of red, red, red paint his mind’s eye.

“No.”

“Well okay then, we’re done here. Let’s get moving.” Michael could only nod and then head after Ryan into the parking lot, silently slipping to the passenger seat after Ryan suggested they take his car.

“Where should we go first?” Ryan asks as he starts the car. Michael thinks for a moment.

“Joel still hasn’t gotten back to us on who those remains belong to, so I guess we should start with the case after her and that’s Moira Lowe.” Michael says as Ryan backs up out of his parking space.

“Right, do you remember the address?” Ryan asks as they pull out of the lot and Michael hums.

“Yeah, can’t really forget after staring at it for days.” Michael snarks and Ryan’s resulting laughter is brittle.

“I’m sorry to say you don’t have my sympathy, Michael. After all, I’ve been staring at those case files longer than you have.” He doesn’t sound resentful, not in the slightest, but Michael winces anyways.

“I know, and you kicked ass compiling all the info you did. I’m fucking glad to have you on the force, man.” Michael’s laying it on thick, but the laugh that leaves Ryan this time is genuine.

_‘Worth it.’_

“You know flattery gets you nowhere, right?” Ryan asks as they come to a red light. Michael watches as it turns yellow, then green, and then watches buildings get left behind as Ryan drives on.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” Michael states and that’s the end of the conversation.

\---

**5:16 PM**

When they get back, the station is almost empty. The light in Jack’s office is on, but he isn’t there when Michael reaches his desk in the bullpen. Geoff, Gavin, and Dan are nowhere to be seen so Michael assumes they’ve yet to return. The lack of their presence, Gavin’s presence specifically, is both a relief and source of tension. When he sits down in front of his desk he wastes no time in letting himself sag into his chair, the cool leather a contrast to his sun warmed skin.

Getting friends and family of the victims to talk had been hard. Really hard. They had been understandably frustrated and tired of being questioned, but all of that seemed to disappear when wither Ryan or Michael showed them Wake’s picture. Ryan’s idea to take a phone picture of the missing persons report and crop out everything else but the photo was a stroke of on the spot brilliance. When asked if they’d seen Wake, “yes” had been the answer across the board. So they were four for four, and while Michael was glad they’d gotten somewhere, he was exhausted.

“You okay over there, Michael?” Ryan asks from his desk. Michael squints over at him, not wanting to open his eyes and let in the harsh streams of light from the fluorescents.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Fucking exhausted though. I’m thinking of straight up crashing when I get home.” Ryan huffs a laugh.

“Sounds like a good idea, maybe I’ll try it out too.” Michael smirks.

“You deserve it, we all do. This week has been pure hell.” Ryan, for once, has no grand or witty reply. He just hums loud enough for it to carry.

“I’m getting too old for this shit.” Someone proclaims and Michael opens his eyes to find Geoff walking into the bullpen.

“You’re only forty; you’ve got some time left in you.” Michael hears Gavin snipe back and he resists a laugh when he makes out Geoff’s glower. But then he sees it.

“Oh right, who am I to talk when you’re here. You’re over a fucking century old, but that hardly counts with your physiology.” Geoff mutters as he draws closer and Gavin dramatically brings a hand to his chest and shares a look with Dan. A short while later Dan looks to be in pain as he tries not to bust out laughing.

“He has a point, B.” Dan says in between gasps and Michael grinds his teeth at the nickname. 

“Oi, sod off you tosser.” Gavin exclaims, accent particularly thick, and Michael has to bite his tongue. It’s their raucous laughter that sets him off.

“You guys done? Because in case you haven’t noticed we’re in the middle of an investigation.” Michael derides and Dan’s laughter cuts off, Geoff’s face is wiped of all humour, and Michael is riding the minute satisfaction he feels until he comes crashing to a stop when he looks at Gavin. The man looks guilty enough for the three of them, and Michael is torn between feeling triumph and wanting to apologize for his spiteful tone.

“So how’d things go on your end?” Asks Ryan and Geoff looks in his direction. Michael thanks whoever for Ryan’s quick mind and empathy.

“Well Mr. and Mrs. Wake were hardly happy to be asked if their missing son ever called them up. But luckily they’re dog people, so Dan’s wholesomeness won them over.”

“Oi.” Dan pipes up, but Geoff continues on as if he hadn’t spoken.

“Anyways, while Dan’s questioning them, Gavin’s in his own world, gauging their emotions, watching for spikes and shit and everything’s relatively calm for the rest of the time we’re there. Bad news is, our guy never called them so searching for him is gonna be difficult. They did give us a list of places they think he might be, but it’s short.” The prospect of information, no matter how little, is uplifting, but something else in Geoff’s explanation sticks out.

“Hold on a sec. What was that? Gavin was gauging their emotions?” Ryan asks, but Geoff clams up. Michael sees Gavin’s shoulders rise and fall in a sigh.

“I was. It ranges from clan to clan, but vampires are sometimes, more like rarely, ‘given’ abilities like clairvoyance, telepathy, or empathy like I have. Abilities are more prevalent in born vampires, but that’s only because their lineage is less diluted.”

“Was your sire born a vampire or was he made too?” Asks Ryan and Gavin’s mouth lifts a little at the corners, though his eyes still convey guilt. The contrast makes Michael want to look away, but he can’t. Truth given under duress and truth given freely are both truths, but still vastly different breeds.

“You did some reading I assume?” Ryan nods. “I was turned by both.” Gavin says and Ryan blinks in surprise.

“Wait, how the fuck does that work?” Geoff’s voice cracks, but Michael doesn’t laugh. The new knowledge of him being in the dark along with the rest of them is sobering like a splash of ice cold water.

“The vampire that bit me was feral. He was a soldier on the opposing side and he attacked me on the battlefield.”

“You fought in a war?” Ryan asks and Gavin shakes his head smile still on his lips. Dan, now right beside his friend, wears a stony expression. He doesn’t like this story, Michael realizes while Gavin starts up again.

“I was born not long after the medium of photography was given to the world, and even less after the trend of taking pictures of war forts and battlefields became a thing. I was immediately intrigued about the technology, and the idea to become a war photographer came to light when Dan enlisted. I didn’t want my only friend to leave me, so I selfishly decided to join him without really sticking my neck out.

“It was just after a skirmish. Dan wasn’t even with me, he was on brief leave and I was taking pictures of a clearing where a fight had taken place. The soldier that bit me came from the trees and took me unawares. Now, to turn someone, there must be an exchange of blood and he did just that. He tore my throat to pieces, but he was bleeding himself and some got into my mouth. And then when he had his full, he left me to die. I was in limbo for two, three days, not sure if I was dead or alive.”

“Like Schrodinger’s cat.” Ryan comments and Gavin lets out a startled bark of laughter.

“Yes, just like that, but my box was that clearing and the radioactive material was coursing through my veins. My other sire, Lord Greenaway, found me on the third day, but I had no way of knowing that. I’d already passed out. When I woke up I could hear _everything;_ the rustle of birds preening their feathers, the whistle of wind through leaves, and the mutterings of servants. I heard everything but my sire’s footsteps approaching, but by then the other noises had overwhelmed me.

“Later I was told that he’d finished the job. He’d turned me against my will, but it was either I die in pain or be changed by feral blood and become feral myself. And you all know what feral vampires are capable of.” No one moved, but the confirmation was there. And it wasn't as if anyone could hide it, Gavin would know anyways. He could feel their emotions and, Michael began to assume, he could manipulate them as well, change them into other emotions, maybe unable to feel at all.

“Were there any repercussions for that?” Ryan asks.

“Yes. In fact, after I was settled, he turned himself in. They understood the situation, however, and let him go on the condition that I had no qualms about being turned. It was a long process of proving to them that I was grateful.”

“The history lesson is nice and all, and pardon me for circling back to a previous topic, but I think we could benefit from hearing more about your _ability_.” Michael points out caustically and Gavin frowns.

“What would you like to know?” His nonchalant tone pisses Michael off, but he tries to hold down the anger roiling inside him.

“You can ‘sense’ emotions, right? Like, you could pick someone off the street and tell someone next to you what they’re feeling?”

“My ability is at its best in close quarters, kind of like we are now, but yes. Put me in a crowd or a room full of people and I could tell you the spectrum of their emotions.”

“What else can you do?” Michael pretty much demands and Gavin hesitates. The agent bites his bottom lip as if to stall and Michael’s patience is almost at its end when Gavin (finally) speaks.

“I’ll give you a scenario. Picture yourself in a supermarket. You’re browsing the aisles when you heart it; the wail of a child. Now anyone can guess that the child is upset over something, but figuring out what that is and finding a way to calm the child down in a timely manner is difficult, especially out in the open and in front of strangers. My empathy allows me to counter that upset, to soothe that tantrum gradually or at once if need be. To put it basically, along with reading emotions, I can influence how people feel.”

“Have you ever used your ability to further yourself?” Michael asks blatantly and Gavin’s eyes widen as if he didn’t expect the question. Bullshit.

“Of course he hasn’t. Why the fuck would you ask that?” Dan snaps and he looks like he has half a mind to exact his anger on Michael’s face. Later, after much badgering, Michael will grudgingly admit that Dan’s ire had frightened him (the agent’s eyes had _glowed_ ), but right now he shoves his fear aside and looks Dan straight in the eyes and scoffs.

“If he’s such a good guy, he doesn’t need you to vouch for him, Gruchy. He can answer for himself. Right, _Gavin?_ ” Michael croons Gavin’s name, and Michael knows he’s laying it on thick, that his behaviour is horrible and that he’ll no doubt hear about it when the investigation is said and done, if not sooner. But right now his only goal is to stand his ground. He’s already screamed himself hoarse waking up from nightmares and his questions had been answered, but he’s caught up in the moment. And if he doesn’t get booted off the force for his conduct, he’ll quit if only to take heat off of people like Ryan who had no part in the lie.

“No, _Michael_ , I’ve never nor will I _ever_ use my empathy for my own gain. And honestly, I am deeply insulted that you would think the thought to do so would have ever crossed my mind.”

Gavin is the embodiment of calm; his voice so cold it makes Michael shiver. Some part of him screams at the top of its lungs for him to stop, for him to shut up and go home and fight another day, because although Gavin can play the part, he'd said it himself; like their killer, he was a vampire, a predator. But a more influential part of Michael, the part that feeds his anger and his hurt; the _parts_ of him that are afraid of actually being able to look Gavin in the eye and not ache to close the distance and fold him in his arms and never let go is all he hears. He hears their whispers and likens them to the hissing of the serpent that goaded Eve to commit the first sin. They are sibilant and plying and the sweetest poison.

So Michael takes a deep breath, and Gavin (sweet Gavin, dishonest Gavin, Gavin who thinks of the greater good, Gavin, Gavin, _Gavin_ ) stares and waits.

“You say that now, but how do you know? Don’t tell me you can tell the future. Can you? Do you look at me and see the paths I’ll take, the decisions I’ll make, or is your only trick getting touchy feely with others?” At this point Michael is working on auto pilot. The words that come out of his mouth almost sound chosen specifically for how much they’ll hurt, but in truth he isn’t thinking at all. It’s all talk vomit, spewed out as fast as he can because he’s just done. When Geoff ( _finally_ )intervenes Michael almost sighs in relief, but he catches himself before he can.

“Fucking- that’s enough, Michael! We’re done for today. Go home, everyone just _go home. Fucking Christ._ ”

Ryan leaves the bullpen first, his eyes flitting over Michael briefly before he looks away. Geoff leaves immediately after him and he doesn’t look at Michael at all. Meanwhile Dan and Gavin have a heated conversation, speaking too fast for Michael to hear. And since he can’t read lips he gives up halfway through a particularly savage hiss from Dan. When he’s finished Gavin speaks up again and it’s clearly a dismissal because Dan leaves barely a split second after Gavin falls silent with a thunderous look on his face.

When Michael checks the clock, the hands tell him that it’s just about six. When he looks away Gavin is still with him and he’s closer, close enough that Michael can see cracks in his cold mask of professionalism.

“I’d like to thank you for today, Detective Jones.” Gavin says and amidst the roaring of blood in his ears and the furious thumping of his heart, in his mind, Michael can hear the discernible click of a gun safety being flicked into the off position.

“Now, I can’t speak for my colleague and though my ability tells me everything I need to know, I certainly can’t speak for you. After all, I think it’d be rather rude of me to put words in your mouth. Nevertheless I am grateful. Today has been very informative. Now if you’ll excuse me, I shall take my leave.”

Pull of the trigger.

_Bang._

\---

It’s just a quarter after six when Michael leaves the station. When he gets into his car and adjusts the rear view mirror he can see Gavin’s eyes staring back at him.

_“…thank you for today, Detective Jones.”_

Michael bites his lip to stop himself from screaming. Instead he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles go white. By calling him by his last name Gavin has made things perfectly clear. Hands braced on the steering wheel, Michael leans forwards and rests his head on them. A smile curves his lips, but it isn’t happy. Even so, bitter laughter fills the air.

“No need to thank me, Agent Greenaway. No need at all.”

\---

**Meanwhile…**

The first half of the drive back to their hotel room is painfully silent. It comes off as strange to Dan, who’s looking on from the back seat, but when Geoff pulls up behind a pickup truck that is just another vehicle in a long line of vehicles waiting for the light to change, Gavin shifts in the front seat and Geoff takes it as a cue of some sort.

“Hey Gavin?”

“Yes Geoff?”

“I know I’m hardly deserving, but I’m gonna be selfish and ask for you not to be mad at Michael, okay?” Geoff stays and Dan watches as Gavin stills.

“You and I are in the same boat, I’m afraid that you can’t ask that of me.” Gavin states firmly and Geoff sighs as he gently steps on the gas, urging his car forward.  

“He’s been hurting for a while, Gav.”

“Shut up, Geoff.” Gavin bites out, but Geoff won’t quit.

“Your jump tore him apart.”

“Shut. Up. Geoff. You think I don’t know that? Because I do. I can damn well see it in his eyes and feel it radiating from him every time we’re in a room together. I fucking know what it did to him and I’m going to have to live with that guilt for _years_. You don’t have to spell it out for me, you know you don’t. So just- don’t be that guy…”

“Gavin…” Dan can smell the distress that doesn’t show in Geoff’s posture. It might be showing on his face, but Dan has no way of telling, being in the back seat and all.

“Don’t. Please.” Gavin basically pleads and Geoff grows silent. Dan sees this as the point to intervene.

“I think the light’s gone green, Geoff.” Dan points out and Geoff’s foot jerks on the pedal.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

\---

**6:47 PM**

When Michael gets home, the weight that had been pressing down upon him seems to increase by tenfold as soon as he closes and locks his door. Heaving a breath, he rolls his shoulders and while his bag strap digs into his skin through his clothes, he takes a look around his apartment.

The sun spills into his living room from the window, streaking through slits in the blinds, stripes of light and shadow playing on the floor. After he takes off his shoes he pads over to close them. When he yanks the curtains closed his apartment grows dark, but not dark enough. The day has gone to shit and he wants to wallow in peace and complete darkness.

Desperation nipping at his heels, he dumps his bag on his sofa and gives the shoulder that had bared the brunt of the abuse from his bag strap a rub in an effort to stave the soreness. Then, as carefully as possible while at the same time not giving a fuck about what happens to it, Michael drapes his jacket over the back of the couch. That done, he grabs his phone from a pocket and plugs it in at the charging station in his kitchen. With exhaustion licking at his vision he plants his hands on the counter and lets his head hang, eyes locking onto the tiled floor before they close. When he opens them and looks up, he checks the time on the stove and groans when he learns that only five minutes have passed by. Pushing away from the counter with more force than needed, he stalks off to the bathroom.

Michael closes the door behind him deliberately, his hand lingering on the handle before sliding off. His arm swings before coming to a dead stop at his side. Everything hurts. His back and shoulders are sore after being tensed up all day, his head is swimming, and his legs feel like jelly, like he’s going to fall over if he takes another step.

Slowly Michael strips. His hands fumble with his tie and removing the buttons on his shirt from their holes becomes tedious, but he feels incredibly free once they’re off. Next he toes off his socks, removes his belt, and shoves his pants off and lets them pool around his ankles before he steps out of them and kicks them off into some corner. His tank top and boxers come off last, joining the rest of his clothes in a heap. For an unknown amount of time Michael stands naked in his bathroom listening to the hum of the exhaust and revelling in the slight chill of the room. Once the moment is gone he pulls back the shower curtain, steps into the tub, and turns the water on to an almost searing temperature. He ducks under the spray, wincing at the heat, but he waits it out until he, eventually, can stand under the blistering spray. He braces himself on the wall in front of him, fingers digging into the grout between the tiles as the water pelts him, pounding out the ache in his shoulders. Steam seems to crowd around him and it fucks with his head, but he is beyond caring at this point.

He washes himself mechanically, arms pumping sluggishly as he rubs the soap under his arms and on his neck. He rinses off just as slow and he almost knocks his shampoo over while reaching for it. His eyes remain closed long after the suds are gone from his hair, and he definitely dozes off for a few minutes, because the next thing he knows cold water is sluicing down his back.

When he turns the taps off, he watches as the water goes down the drain, waiting until the last of it is gone. He then pulls the curtain open, slowly places his feet on the bathmat, and then reaches for the towel he left on the rack. He wraps it around his waist after he dries himself off. Then, with that done, he slowly ambles over to his bedroom.

It’s darker in his room, the blinds are thankfully already closed, but the open curtains still allow for some light to shine through. He heaves a sigh. It’s better than nothing. Holding onto the towel with one hand, he walks over to his dresser and rifles through the drawers before pulling out a new pair of boxers, abandoning his towel to put them on. He studiously ignores the earpiece his hand had brushed up against while searching for them.

Clad only in his boxers Michael steps gingerly over to his window and shuts the curtains, bathing him in darkness. For a moment he pauses to let his eyes adjust then he walks over to his bed and falls into it, shower warmed skin immediately drinking in the coolness of the sheets. He lays there for a long time, the right half of his face smashed into his pillow, eyes staring unfocused at a wall. The only sound is the faint rumble of car engines outside and his slow, measured breathing.

In stark contrast to before, his anger is gone once again, fled to make room for the guilt he feels for accusing Gavin of using his abilities for his own gain. That same guilt rails against Michael for riling up Dan who defended him, for dragging Ryan into the conflict, and for making Geoff yell.

“One fuck up after another, huh? Fucking hell.” He gripes. He squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want to dwell on today any more than he has to, but it’s no use. No matter how he tries to clear his mind, his thoughts are consumed with Gavin. Gavin the idiot, Gavin the liar, Gavin who isn't human, but does so well acting like he’s anything but, though Michael already knows the truth. His heart doesn't beat, and his hands are ice cold, and Michael likes him as much as he tries to deny it. Gavin is charming, Gavin is friendly, Gavin genuinely cares about his job and he also seems to care about how Michael feels about him. And that fucking sucks because the concept of someone caring for him shouldn't make the ache in his heart throb, but it does. It aches and aches and  _aches_ but it's a good pain as ridiculous as that sounds. After holding things in for so long, avoiding his feelings and throwing himself into his work, Michael wants to welcome this pain. The catch? He doesn't know how. 

It’s a battle against fatigue, but the last thing Michael hears before he falls asleep is Gavin’s voice, cold and clear and his words chase Michael in his dreams. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Thursday, July 18 th, 3:42 AM **

Dan is fast asleep, but Gavin is wide awake when his phone rings. He reaches under his pillow and slides across the screen to answer, but before he can say a greeting Geoff’s voice comes over the line.

 _“We have another body.”_ With a quick glance over to Dan, who thankfully hasn’t stirred, Gavin sits up and pushes his body back until it’s up against the headboard.

“Are you sure? How long has she been dead? Is there any blood?” Gavin asks in rapid succession, but there’s nothing. “Geoff?”

_“It’s not a girl, Gav.”_

“What?” Gavin hears Geoff exhale heavily.

 _“It’s Wake. Simon Wake is dead and I don’t need Joel to tell me the cause.”_ Gavin’s eyes fall closed.

“Fuck.” Gavin curses and Geoff huffs a harsh laugh.

 _“Yeah. So it goes without saying that I need you to come down to the scene. I’ve already sent Ryan over, so you should get ready.”_ Gavin slides a hand over his face.

“All right, we’ll see you there.”

 _“See you.”_ And then he hangs up.

“Something wrong, B?” Gavin turns his head to find Dan awake and on his side. His honey brown eyes are wide with curiosity, but Gavin can feel the worry.

“There’s been another murder.”

“Is she-”

“It’s not another girl. Our number one suspect, Simon Wake, is dead.”

“Blimey.” Dan breathes and Gavin tosses him an indulgent smile.

“Detective Haywood was sent over to pick us up not too long ago, we should get ready then head down to the lobby to meet him.” When he doesn’t get an immediate reply, Gavin sits up, pushes off the covers, and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Gavin.” Dan says as Gavin makes to stand.

“Yeah, B?”

“Have you been feeding?” Gavin freezes.

“What?”

“It’s just, you’ve been looking real pale recently, paler than usual at least, and I have to say that I’m worried.” So that was the cause of the worry Gavin had sensed earlier. He’d assumed it was because of the call from Geoff, but apparently he was mistaken.

“I’m fine, B. You’ve got nothing to worry about, honestly.” Gavin says dismissively while sending waves of reassurance, but Dan won’t lay off.

“I know what you’re doing Gavin, so you can bloody well stop. Have you or have you not been feeding?” Dan reiterates sternly and Gavin looks away.

“No.” Gavin admits and he hears Dan sigh heavily. He can feel his friend staring at him, but he refuses to make eye contact.

“We’ll talk about this later. Right now we have to get ready. Haywood could already be downstairs waiting for us.” Gavin doesn’t verbally reply, he just nods then gets up from the bed and heads over to his suitcase. Less than fifteen minutes later both Gavin and Dan are headed out the door, making their way to the elevators.

When they arrive at the lobby Haywood is, in fact, waiting for them. The detective throws them a smile when he sees them, but it does nothing for the pallor of his face. His hair is mussed, and a tie is missing from around his collar.

“Geoff filled you in I assume?” Haywood asks. 

“He did. And he wants us at the scene, yes?” Gavin asks and Haywood nods.

“He does.”

“Let’s be off then, shall we?” Gavin asks. While gesturing for Haywood to go ahead Gavin feels a surge of gratitude from the detective, but no more words are had.

\---

The ride to the crime scene is completely void of conversation. There is only the sound of breathing, the rumble of car engines. When Detective Haywood pulls up not too far from the mouth of an alley, Gavin knows they’ve arrived. After he cuts the engine, Haywood unclips his seat belt and steps out, Dan and Gavin out seconds after him.

“So happy you two could make it.” Geoff snarks when he lays eyes on them, but it lacks any real heat.

The smell and sight of blood stops Gavin in his tracks, a hand coming up to press lightly against his throat as he tries to settle the burn that creeps up on him like a skidding truck. There, in a large puddle of it, lies Simon Wake’s body. He’s on his back, unseeing eyes looking up at the sky, and his throat is torn to pieces. When Gavin moves closer he can see pieces of flesh on the ground next to the body. As he crouches over the body, the jagged edges of the wound become clear as do the sightless eyes of the victim. Behind him Gavin hears Dan sniff the air.

“He’s human, ain’t he? No two ways about it.” Gavin simply hums his agreement.

“Well if it wasn’t obvious he’s no longer our guy, then this is a clear indicator.” Geoff points out and Gavin sends out a wave of calm to soothe the man’s restlessness and frustration.

“We should get the body to Joel.” Haywood comments.

“Already ahead of you, man. I’d just got off the phone with him when you arrived. Analysts are on the way and they’re bringing a body bag with them.”

“I have to admit, when I was younger, I never thought I’d be relieved to hear the words ‘body’ and ‘bag’ together in a sentence.” As Gavin stands he turns just in time to see Geoff frown.

“If this case continues on any longer, you’ll be hearing it more and more often. Still relieved?” Haywood doesn’t have a chance to reply. The grumble of an engine draws Geoff’s attention to the street in front of the alley and in turn Gavin, Dan, and Ryan twist around in time to see a dark van pull up. The words Austin PD Crime Scene Analysts are painted on the side, and Gavin watches as doors open and people from the forensics department spill out of the vehicle.

“Jesus, this place is a mess.” Someone comments and Gavin can feel the disgust spread throughout the group as each individual takes in the scene.

“Hey Gus, you think you have this under control?” Geoff calls over to a man with a grave look on his face.

“Yeah. You still going back to the station?” Gus fires back and Geoff nods.

“Okay, I’ll call to check in when we’re done here. Probably do it on the way.”

“All right, catch you later, man.” Gus doesn’t reply, just inclines his head in acknowledgement. Seemingly satisfied Geoff takes a step forward and makes his way to the lip of the alley, skirting around the body.

“Are you guys coming or not?” Geoff asks when he reaches the street, and the three of them don’t quite rush, but they do move quickly to join him at the mouth of the alleyway. “Ryan, can you go on ahead, I have something I need to talk with Gavin and Dan about.”

“Sure. Michael should be there by now. I’ll tell him what’s going on.” Gavin watches him walk to his car, get in, and then drive off. It doesn’t occur to Gavin that he’s alone on the side walk when Geoff calls for him.

“Gavin! C’mon man, we gotta go!”

\---

**4:19 AM**

Being woken up by an early morning phone call, for the second time, was awful. Even though he’d fallen asleep before the sun had set, it was still jarring to be so suddenly pulled from sleep, and Michael was feeling overtired even though he’d only slept eight hours. When the station came into view, Michael almost cheered, but the reason for his need to be at the department was sobering. Lana Forde’s body had been found just the day before, and to get a call about another body so soon was a crippling blow. 

Geoff hadn’t been specific, but apparently a cop on patrol had heard a commotion in an alley and had gone to check it out. Geoff had been on his way to the scene of the crime when he’d called Michael, and was no doubt at the scene or on his way back to the station, but Michael had no way of knowing that.

The darkness of the lobby combined with the sight of the empty bullpen through the glass doors makes Michael anxious. Just as he reaches for the handle, the sound of hurried footsteps drawing near has him quickly turning in the direction of the hall that leads to forensics.

“Geoff, is that you?” A voice asks and Michael clears his throat.

“No, it’s Michael. Did Geoff call you in too? Joel?” As the man comes into view Michael can vaguely make out his face. When Joel gets closer Michael can see the man’s lips are drawn into a thin line and his brows are furrowed. What’s most worrisome is how pale he looks even in the dimly lit hall.

“She’s gone.” Joel says in a voice Michael has to strain to hear.

“What? Who’s gone?” Michael urges and Joel seems to take a moment to compose himself.

“Forde’s body. It disappeared from the morgue. Geoff called me in to prepare for the body that was just found, but he wasn’t here when I arrived so I went down to check on things. When I got in, the place was trashed and she was missing from the cold chamber. My lab coat is also missing.”

“Are you sure it was her?” Michael asks and Joel nods vehemently.

“Yes. I’m absolutely positive. Wherever Lana Forde is, she certainly isn’t in my morgue. Not anymore.”

“Fuck. I- I’ll call Geoff. Has she been missing long?” Michael asks as he takes out his phone.

“I got in maybe fifteen minutes before you arrived, so there’s no way for me to tell.” Joel replies when the line is in the middle of ringing.

“God damn it.”

“ _Hello?_ ” The accented voice throws Michael for a bit.

“Who is this?”

“ _Michael?”_

“Gavin?” Michael asks confusedly before he remembers. “Where’s Geoff?” It’s a close run thing, but Michael doesn’t imagine the pause Gavin takes.

 _“He’s driving. Did something happen?”_ Briefly Michael curses Gavin’s ability to conclude that things have gone to shit, but at the same time he is grateful that he doesn’t have to jump through any hoops to get to his point.

“Forde’s body disappeared from the morgue.” He’d considered being snarky with his reply, but he was already treading on thin ice from when he’d blatantly accused Gavin of using his empathy for his own gain. If Michael had been keeping score, they would be tied.

 _“How long has she been missing?”_ Gavin asks and Michael takes some time to think.

“Uh, Joel said when he got in she was already gone. So it could be anywhere between last night after we all left, or she could have gone just before he went to check in.” The man in questions shifts his weight from foot to foot in Michael’s periphery.

 _“I see.”_ Gavin says and then Michael can hear multiple voices conversing. _“I have an idea as to how she could have gone missing, but it’s best if everyone were together to hear. Now, you’ve been told about the recent murder, yes?”_ Gavin asks and Michael resists the urge to snap that yes, he’d heard, but was still out of the loop as far as details went.

“Yeah, Geoff called me about it after he called Ryan. Why, is something wrong on your end?” Gavin doesn’t even hesitate.

 _“Simon Wake is dead. It’s his blood painting the alley this time around.”_ He says and Michael’s throat constricts as he swallows.

“Fuck. Fuck! There- there were others that fit the profile, right?” Michael inquires a little frantically and he hears Gavin sigh.

_“Yes, two others, but the chances of finding a suspect amongst either of them are slim. I’ll talk with our informant; perhaps he can shed some light on some things.”_

“Informant… he was the one that helped with the profile initially, right?” Though anger had made itself at home when Gavin had first mentioned the informant, Michael had been listening. He had put aside his hurt so he could pay attention properly, but in doing so, he’d also tied it down with shitty rope. This time around he was calmer, more level headed. The ache was still there, it made itself known as a dull thump in his chest, but he could handle it. Or at least, he _wanted_ to handle it.

 _“Yes, and I’ll explain that too. Promise.”_ Michael bites his lip. He shoots…

“You don’t need to promise me anything, Gav- Agent Greenaway. I- I trust you.” Michael knew that he possessed no supernatural powers of his own, but he swore he could feel Gavin’s relief through the phone.

 _“We’ll see you there,_ Michael _.”_

He scores.

\---

**4:25 AM**

Ryan gets to the station before the others, but Michael isn’t complaining. Joel was still excitable and Michael was unsure of how to help, but the pathologist seemed to calm down once the other detective arrived. Joel was a smart guy, but Michael knew, from experience, the trials involved when learning the supernatural was more real than people realized. Anyhow, Ryan had strolled in through the front doors just as Michael was finished getting Joel up to date on the case, and when he looked, the other detective looked worse for wear.

“I’m starting to want to catch this motherfucker just so I don’t have to wake up before the sun anymore.” Ryan laments when he comes to a stop in front of Michael and Joel.

“Another case might come up just after this one.” Michael comments and Ryan levels him a glare.

“Don’t you fucking dare jinx it, asshole. I’m still primary on this case, there’s power to that.”

“Not much.” This comes from Joel who looks noticeably more animated and less like death warmed up. Or rather, less like death climbed out of a cold chamber and fucked off to who knew where. Semantics.

“Let’s continue this scintillating conversation in the bullpen, shall we?” Michael lobbies the question as a suggestion, but his tone brooks little rebuttal. His urging isn’t really needed though as both Joel and Ryan are too happy to move from the ominous shade of the lobby. With the lights turned on, the bullpen looked much more inviting.

“So did someone fill you in?” Ryan asks. The three of them are clustered around Ryan’s desk since it was larger and had more room for chairs. Still a little jittery, Joel had opted to stand.

“Yeah, I called Geoff, but Gavin was the one who answered.” Ryan pulls a face, but it’s gone quicker than Michael can open his mouth to tell the other to fuck off.

“How did that go?” Michael shrugs.

“Relatively well. It was an exchange of info, really.”

“An exchange? What did you tell him?”

“Lana Forde’s corpse has disappeared from the morgue.” Joel answers so quickly that it takes Ryan a second to process.

“Well that’s just fantastic.”

“Hey, it’s not all bad. Gavin was generous. Remember him mentioning an informant when he and Dan gave us the profile?” Ryan looks away and puts a hand to his chin as he tries to remember.

“Vaguely.” He admits and Michael gives a jerky nod.

“Well, he implied that this informant might know of another person who could be responsible for these killings.”

“Did he say that exactly?” Ryan asks doubtfully and Michael frowns.

“Well no, but-”

“We need hard evidence, Michael. We have reports of all the murders thus far, we have witness testimonials, but we need a suspect especially since the one we had is dead. I’m not saying I don’t trust Gavin’s judgement, it's proven reliable thus far, but you can’t blame me for being a little wary about some informant that we’ve never met.”

“I can understand that, but it’s at least worth a shot…” Michael tries and, after a while, Ryan silently concedes. And just in time too as the three missing members of their little investigative ‘team’ stride in through the bullpen doors. Once everyone is in a clump together, Geoff clears his throat.

“Everyone to the conference room, we have a fuck ton of shit to talk about.”

\---

“Okay, now that we’re all settled, can someone lay everything out to make sure we’re all on the same page?” Feeling much like a child at school, Michael raises his hand and Geoff nods to him that he has the floor.

“All right, so there are three things.” Michael says, and then he holds up a finger. “One; our lead suspect is dead.” Another finger goes up. “Two; Lana Forde is missing from the morgue.”

“And the third?” Geoff asks.

“The third thing is that Gavin and Dan met with an informant who might be able to set us on track in terms of finding a suspect.” All eyes focus on Gavin who looks too well put together at almost five o’clock in the morning.

“Care to elaborate, Gav?”

“Well, as Michael so graciously pointed out, yes, there is an informant that may be able to help us. He was at the club at the time Dan and I went over to question the staff and patrons.”

“Did this guy leave you a way to contact him?” Michael asks and Gavin nods. His shoulders slump in relief at the news and he can feel the tension ebb away until the wave is no more than a mist.

“Dan, do you have his card on you?” Gavin asks and Dan inclines his head.

“I do, just let me fish it out.” While Dan reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, Gavin locks gazes with Michael. They don’t know each other enough to have a conversation with just their eyes, as ridiculous as that sounds, but Michael can feel the contentment that Gavin is feeling and it’s… nice. Really nice. It went without saying that the two of them needed to talk things out, but it could wait. For now.

“Got it!” Dan declares and Gavin snickers at his colleague’s enthusiasm. When Geoff extends his hand for it, Gavin takes the card from Dan and hands it over.

“Do we call him now, or later?” Geoff contemplates out loud.

“We should do it now, but arrange for a meeting later in the day. He might have said ‘call whenever,’ but just after five in the morning might be stretching it.” Gavin proposes and a murmur of agreement fills the room. “All right, I’ll call.”

There’s a lull in the conference room after Gavin heads into the hall and the rest of them, excluding Joel, are basically stuck twiddling their thumbs. The pathologist had already been on his way back to clean up the mess in the morgue, but after receiving a call from forensics, Joel had gone back to the lab to perform Wake’s autopsy. And with Gavin in the hall it was just the four of them in the conference room.

From where he’s sitting Michael has an unobstructed view of the white board where they’ve hung pictures of the victims. Simon Wake’s neutral expression is a contrast to the smiling faces of the girls killed before him, and thus he stands out. Close cropped hair, darker than Lafayette’s, but lighter than Dane’s, the killer obviously had a thing for brunettes. Michael shudders.

“Wake might have been the only guy this asshole killed, but he still fits the type.” Michael comments aloud and the others turn to look at him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty creepy innit? If he’d chosen differently, it might have been harder to connect the killings even with the cause of death.” Dan chips in.

“I am so fucking glad I put Ryan on this case.” Geoff breathes out and Ryan snaps his head from the board to look at him and then takes on a humbled look.

“Hey, Geoff?” The man in question looks over.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for putting me on this case too. I needed a kick in the ass.” Geoff stares at him dumbfounded, mouth working before it shuts, teeth clicking audibly.

“No, no, I mean yeah. Sure, no problem.” The chief fumbles and Michael laughs.

“Am I interrupting something?” An accented voice asks and Michael turns to see Gavin back in the conference room.

“No. Did you get through?”

“I did. He said we can call around lunch and properly arrange a meeting then.” Ryan sags in his seat.

“Thank fuck.”

“We’re not out of the woods yet, but at least now we have a torch so we’re not fumbling in the dark anymore.” Gavin remarks at which Geoff cracks up laughing.

“Oh man, it was black as dicks until now.” He elaborates when everyone aside from Gavin side eyes him.

Michael waits until the laughter dies down and then he steels himself to bring up a topic Gavin had promised to talk about when they were all together. They were together now and, Michael hoped, in the right frame of mind.

“Speaking of being in the dark, we still don’t have any clue as to why Forde is gone from the morgue.” Michael states without any flourish and time seems to stop.

“That’s right.” Ryan agrees. “Anyone have any ideas?” He asks the room at large and Gavin clears his throat.

“I have an idea, but I severely doubt any of you will like it.”

“What is it, Gavin?” Geoff asks and his voice cracks from the urgency of his tone.

“This part of the profile is a big one. The killer isn’t human, and while I first believed that the murderer was a vampire going feral, I’m being led to believe the opposite. I trust you’re all familiar with how vampirism is spread, yes?”

“We sat through a brief history of you, yeah. Why is that relevant?” Michael asks impatiently, but Gavin isn’t fazed.

“It is my belief that our killer has turned Lana Forde in order to send a message to us. The public knows nothing of him, but with Lana possibly out there; unmonitored and with no one to teach her how to manage her thirst, there could be a lot more deaths than there already have been. And as a result, we will have no choice but to go against your media liaison’s instruction to keep the public out of the loop.”

“We just keep going deeper and deeper into this rabbit whole, except there’s no Cheshire Cat and no Mad Hatter. There’s just shit, shit, and even more shit.” Michael cries with enough irritation in his voice for everyone on the room. The calm that comes afterwards is artificial and supplied by Gavin, and while he still feels squeamish about his emotions being ‘tampered’ with, he can breathe a little more easily once the stress is gone.

“If that’s the truth, we’ve got our work cut out for us.” Ryan remarks and Gavin runs a hand through his hair.

“Well you know what they say…” Gavin trails off and Michael clicks his tongue.

“What do they say, Gavin?” He asks testily and Gavin cocks his head to the side as if considering Michael.

“There ain’t no rest for the wicked.” And the truth of that lances through Michael’s chest and renders him speechless. He says nothing for the rest of the hour that they’re there.

\---

**5:27 AM**

“We should pack it in for now. Get out of here and come in later in the morning. There’s nothing we can do and Wake’s autopsy is just a formality at this point.” Ryan says to no one in particular. But everyone, with the exception of Gavin and Dan, are _really_ feeling the strain of being up before the sun and then having to work the entire day.

Michael looks over to Geoff for input, but the man is just staring at the papers he has in his hands.

“Geoff?” Gavin frets and Geoff blinks hard. A sort of buzzing drones in Michael’s ears and he tries hard to ignore it even as he acknowledges its familiarity.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, yeah, _definitely_. Everybody can pack up and head out, but we should be back before… When was it Gavin?”

“He said around lunch.”

“Right, okay then. Can we all try to be here before then? Say around nine, maybe ten? That way we can touch base with Joel and I can talk with the others about their cases and their progress.” No one disagrees and the buzzing Michael had heard stops, replaced by a gentle hum. When Gavin rolls his shoulders, it clicks. Despite the fact that their main, and only, suspect is dead Geoff isn’t worried. Or at least, he isn’t so worried that he feels the case is a lost cause. He trusts Gavin that much, he believes in him so ardently that a simple reply takes a load off his shoulders. The idea of Gavin being trustworthy isn’t foreign to Michael, but it hits him like a freight train all the same.

_‘You can trust him, Jones. You can trust him.’_

And so Michael is uncharacteristically quiet as he shoves papers and folders into his messenger bag, nor does he say anything but vocalize a promise to Geoff and the others that he’d be back at the agreed upon time.

When he gets into his car he turns the radio on and sings along, drumming his fingers on the wheel and bobbing his head ever so slightly to the beat. There is a weight on his back, but it’s not as oppressive as previous weights had been. In truth, this weight settles comfortably on his shoulders like the straps of a backpack, familiar in its drag. Responsibility, he thinks, is much less burdensome when shared with those you can trust.

\---

**5:41 AM**

“I am fucking beat.” Dan announces as soon as the door to his and Gavin’s shared hotel room closes and Gavin can’t help an amused smile when the other agent flops into his bed face first.

“Get some rest then, B. I’ll wake you up in time to get ready, all right?”

Instead of answering Dan rolls over until he’s facing Gavin who had come over to sit across from him on his own bed.

“Something on your mind, B?” Gavin asks as he loosens his tie. The strip of silk comes undone smoothly, wrinkled only where it had been knotted, but Gavin tosses it in the direction of the chair he’d been sitting in before Geoff had picked them up first day, not caring if it landed on the chair or not. It does, but it slips to the floor in a heap of blue fabric.

“You still haven’t fed, have you?” Dan asks and Gavin freezes in the middle of undoing his button up.

“I thought I told you I was fine, Dan.” Gavin says a tad frostily and Dan glares. Hard.

“Oh fuck off with that tone, Gavin. Just because you’re bloody second in command doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned for you. Do you have a complex or something? You were like this back then too, messing about, worrying even your brother and sister. Is there a reason for that?”

“Dan, I thought we agreed to not bring up the past.” Gavin tries to remind, but Dan shakes his head.

“On the condition that you didn’t do anything stupid, but what did you do? You jumped off a bloody ten story building! The only reason I said nothing was because it was justified.”

“Dan-” Gavin attempts to interject, but Dan speaks over him as if he hadn’t spoken at all.

“But do you wanna know what isn’t justified? _This!_ Fucking- starving yourself is more idiotic than braining yourself on the pavement, and do you know why? I’ll tell you why! You can come back from that. Recovery takes an assload amount of time, sure, but it’s possible. What’s not possible, or at the very least _very unlikely,_ is coming back from going feral. You told Michael yourself that if a vampire doesn’t feed they’ll lose themself. But what do you do? You torture yourself, and for what? Why don’t you feed Gavin?”

“I- I-” Being with Dan allows Gavin to be himself, to be the person he was before he was bitten, before he was brought up and taught how to speak to delegates and masters and ladies and lords. There was a huge difference between Gavin Greenaway, vice director of an influential agency, and Gavin Free, a twenty something git that took pictures of war. But at the same time, there were no differences. And maybe Gavin had a reason for not feeding before, but it escaped him now and left him stumbling. Similar feelings to what Gavin had felt through Michael were warring within him, making him a mess of frustration, confusion, hopefulness, and determination. A veritable kaleidoscope of emotions swirled around him, and it was perhaps now that Gavin was folding under them, his own vulnerability the final straw to break his back.

“Don’t do this to yourself Gavin, you owe Michael don’t you?”

Staring at the carpeted floor, Gavin’s eyes go wide.

“Dan, please stop. _Please._ ”

“Gavin…”

“Just go to bed, we’ll talk later, I swear it.” Yet again, Dan doesn’t go down easy, but he relents.

Almost an hour later, after the both of them are changed and ‘properly’ in bed, Dan’s light snores mingle with the sound of the air conditioner. The sun’s rays are mostly blocked by the curtains, but Gavin can still see light peeking through. Again he is wide awake and again anticipation and trepidation sing within him, low chords and high pitched plucking that leaves him clutching the sheets. Birds chirp and cars run on the roads; every sound is magnified and Gavin wants to turn it all off.

He reaches under his pillow for his phone, presses the home button, and checks the time.

The screen reads 7:43 AM before it fades, bathing Gavin in relative darkness. Even so, when he looks over, he can see Dan clearly, face peaceful.

“That’s just it, B. I’ve already given what I’ve owed, what more is left for him to take?”

_He already has my heart._

\---

**8:09 AM**

When Michael wakes up, there are sounds of activity in his kitchen, so he immediately gets up to investigate. The sight that greets him is not unwelcome, but he’s nervous all the same.

“Hey Linds, when did you get in?” There’re eggs on a plate on the counter and bacon sizzling in a pan on the stove but Michael’s stomach is doing flips and his heart is in his throat.

“About twenty minutes ago. Do you want coffee?” She asks not unkindly and Michael steps further into the kitchen.

“Yes please.”

“Go sit down and I’ll bring you a mug. I’m just gonna fish up with the food.”

“Sure.”

He pulls up a stool to the peninsula that serves as his charging station and waits patiently. His nerves get worse, however, as he watches Lindsay flick the stove off and then reach into the cupboard for plates. She sets down a generous plate for him and a plate for herself beside it, then turns back to reach for mugs.

“You can start eating, you know.” She comments dryly and Michael starts.

“Oh yeah, right. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.”

Silence falls as she makes coffee for the both of them, two creams and two sugars each. When she slides in beside him and sets down his mug in front of his plate he stops with the fork midway to his mouth. He can feel her staring at him so he puts the fork down and reaches for his coffee. He burns his tongue on the first sip.

“Fuck.” He curses without any real heat before pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. The sensation is awful, his tongue like sandpaper against everything else. Lindsay takes this as an opportunity.

“You still working on that serial case?” She asks this almost casually and Michael coughs.

“Yeah. I’m actually gonna head to the station in a bit. The DA got some experts to come in and one of them arranged a meeting with an informant that might help us get another lead.”

He doesn’t tell her that Geoff was proactive in getting them aid, nor does he tell her that Gavin is one of the experts. Just earlier this week she’d found him screaming about a nightmare about Gavin’s death. How the fuck was he supposed to tell her that Gavin was alive and well? As if she were unaware of his inner turmoil, Lindsay presses on.

“Really? Who did Burnie get to come over?” What did he tell her? The truth, the part of him that cares deeply for her cries out. The truth, of course another part of his mind agrees. He’d tell her the truth, but not all of it.

“Some guys from MESA. Do you know them?”

“No, I can’t say that I do.” She admits and Michael tries not to let out a sigh of relief. _‘Dodged that bullet.’_

“Well their agency is very specialized. It isn’t typical of them to help with a case like this, at least for one of the agents, but they were recommended, and for good reason.”

“Well that’s reassuring. You guys are keeping such a tight lid on all of this. Was that Caleb’s idea?” Michael picks up his fork again, puts the bacon speared onto it into his mouth, chews for a bit, and then swallows. He knows that she knows that he’s stalling, but because she’s _too fucking nice_ for her own good, she doesn’t bring attention to it.

“Yes, especially at the time of the first murder. I wasn’t working on the case then, but he advised Geoff not to give anything out to the press when Ryan was put to work on it. It’s still the case now, especially since it’s the work of a serial killer.” The stare she gives him indicates nothing.

“Should you be telling me this?” Michael licks his lips.

“You’re trustworthy. Besides, I’m not telling you everything.”

“You’re not?” _Fuck._

“Well, I mean, no. Fuck. Uh, I mean I can’t tell you everything because of regulation. If it got out that I’d told a civilian about an ongoing investigation even Geoff would be on me about it.”

“True. What can you tell me then?”

“Huh?”

“For instance, are you okay? You look like shit, if you don’t mind me saying.” Michael lets out a strangled laugh which turns into a cough. Lindsay’s face changes as she feels worry, but Michael waves her off and reaches for his, now significantly less hot, coffee.

“Me? I’m fine, honestly. I’m not exactly enamoured with being woken up before the sun has a chance to rise, but it’s all part of the job.”

“So you’re not preoccupied by anything else?”

“Preoccupied? Preoccupied by what?” Michael asks with genuine confusion and Lindsay gives him a _look._

“By what happened two years ago.” She says with barely any inflection, but it lances through Michael nevertheless. He’s still recovering from the unintended blow as he says,

“No. It’s still on my mind, but I have more important things to focus on.”

“But Michael, your mental health _is_ important!” Michael narrows his eyes at her, food forgotten.

“Am I not mentally healthy?” He asks as if it was ludicrous to suggest otherwise and Lindsay treats him with a deer in headlights stare.

“Yes, but Geoff told me you refused to talk with a therapist after your psych eval.”

“Only because I didn’t need one!”

“Michael, you’ve been having nightmares about the same subject for two years. Two _years_.”

“Yeah, but I’m fine.” Michael says insistently, but Lindsay looks at him disbelievingly.

“Are you?” She poses the question, her tone dripping with skepticism and Michael’s eyes fall closed as he breathes out his nose in a frustrated manner.

“Yes! You wanna know why?”

“I do. Go ahead, Michael. Enlighten me.” She says challengingly and Michael doesn’t even hesitate.

“I have you.” That stops her cold.

“What?”

“I have you, and Geoff, and Ray, and everyone else at the station looking out for me. I’m fine, Lindsay. I might not have everything pieced perfectly together, but I am _okay_.” He doesn’t know what happens, but one moment Lindsay is sitting beside him, and then the next she has her arms wrapped tightly around him. And it is one of the best, if not _the_ best, feelings in the world. He can tell that she’s crying, but he doesn’t comment on it. He owes her that much.

“Fuck you Michael Vincent Jones.” She says into his neck and he laughs long and loud.

“Oh, but you did, and look at how that worked out.” She pushes away from him roughly, but she’s laughs too and it is fucking _beautiful_.

“Asshole.”

“Love you too, Linds. You know that right?” She smiles at him then, and even with tear tracks running down her cheeks, she is stunning. And even as friends, the way she looks at him makes Michael feel incredibly lucky.

“I do. You fucking bet I do. Now finish your food and get ready for work. You have a serial case to solve.” He grins.

“Yes, ma’am.” He gives her a mock salute and when she laughs again, the smile on his face stays on as he finishes his breakfast, as he gets changed, as he walks through his front door, and even as he gets into his car.

\---

**9:56 AM**

The first to get in are Gavin, Dan, and Geoff who’d given them a ride. The three of them dick around in the conference room until Ryan shows up with Joel in tow. Michael shows up last, but no one is complaining.

“So what have you got?” Geoff asks of Joel when they’re all seated at the conference table, and the pathologist opens up the folder he’s brought with him. After flipping to a certain page he slides the open folder across the table and Geoff’s head dips down as he reads the autopsy report.

“The cause of death is still exsanguination, so there’s no doubt that your killer is responsible. There is, however, something that’s bothering me.”

“What’s that?” Ryan asks and Joel breathes out heavily.

“Unlike the previous victims where the killing wound is the only major wound sustained, Simon Wake’s body was almost cut to pieces. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say the killer had something against Wake and that’s why he was killed.”

“I might have an idea.” Dan says and everyone turns to look at him.

“You wanna share with the class?” Michael asks and Dan gives a one shouldered shrug.

“It’s in the notes about the profile, but our killer is painfully narcissistic. It shows in where he disposed of the bodies before he killed Lana Forde. Typically, a killer would dispose of bodies where they wouldn’t be found. The decomposed remains found a little while ago imply that our guy did this until he realized he was hiding the bodies too well. So he starts dumping bodies in alleys for people to stumble upon. The brutality of Forde’s murder shows an increase in anger at the lack of media attention. He figures with the increase in violence, he can more or less scare us into telling the public. So while your media liaison’s decision not to give the press any details about the murders is justified, it’s only making our killer angrier.”

“But what about Wake?” Ryan asks and Dan frowns.

“The killer must have found out somehow that Wake was considered responsible, or rather that he was being given ‘credit’ for the murders. The multitude of lacerations along with the killing wound tells me that our killer feels slighted. There’s a chance that the next murder will be much more violent in order to force us to acknowledge him.”

“Jesus.” Geoff breathes, face pale. When Michael looks Joel appears worse.

“Are you okay Joel?” Michael asks and Joel buries his face in his hands.

“I’m fine, I just- There’s nothing better than having your suspicions confirmed, right?” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, but Michael can’t blame him. No one reacted the same way to learning new information.

“We still have to speak with the informant, but perhaps we can settle all of this with the information he gives us.” Gavin says and a murmur of agreement goes around the room.

“We still have around two hours until the guy calls though, right?” Ryan asks and Gavin nods.

“Yes, that should give Geoff some time to check in on things like he said he needed to.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Geoff says as he pushes his chair back. “I have a feeling that Jack, Jordan, and Brandon have a better handle on things on their end.”

\---

An awkward silence bubbles up after Geoff leaves, Joel following him out the room. With the call from the informant still hours away, they had nothing to do.

“So what do we do now?” Michael asks.

“We could talk.” Dan suggests after a while.

“About what?” Ryan wonders and the agent shrugs.

“Anything really. For instance, what do you do when you don’t have a case?” Ryan takes pause.

“Well I, uh, spend time with my family I guess. Play with the kids, go out with my wife. Nothing big.”

“And you?” It’s quiet before it clicks.

“Me?” Michael points to himself and Dan nods.

“Well I, uh, I hang out with my friends, either at the bar or at my apartment. Sometimes I play video games.”

“Is Legend of Zelda a favourite of yours?” Gavin asks and Michael balks.

“I guess. Why?” Michael asks and Gavin smiles, but it’s a sad twist of the lips.

“I saw your tattoos.” He replies. “Two years ago. You had your sleeves rolled up.” Gavin clarifies when Michael stares back at him blankly. He’s still wearing his sad smile and Michael swallows. His throat is suddenly dry.

“Oh.”

With all of the grace of a raging bull, Ryan shifts the focus to Dan.

“So what about you, Dan, what do you do?”

“Nothing really. The field cases I typically go on are more physically demanding and I spend my time at home lazing about because I’m so tired.”

“And you Gavin?”

“I don’t usually have much free time, but when I do have a moment to myself, I like to go into town, take a camera with me and get some interesting shots.”

“That’s right. You were a photographer before you worked for MESA.” Ryan comments. It’s not long before they lapse into silence once again.

“Jesus fuck we suck.” Michael complains and everyone starts.

“Michael?” This comes from Ryan.

“We’re all grown ass men, but we can’t find anything to occupy ourselves.” Michael states with an absurd amount of frustration and the entire room erupts with laughter.

“Flippin’ heck, man, is that your main concern?” Dan gasps and Michael huffs.

“At this point in time it is. Like fuck, we’re basically over here with our thumbs up our asses. Can’t we come up with something?”

“We’ve got a limited time frame, Michael.” Gavin tries to argue and while Michael concedes his point, he is a stubborn motherfucker.

“Sure, sure, but _still_.”

“How about we get lunch? That way, when we meet with the informant we won’t be distracted.”

“Now there’s an idea!” Michael crows and everyone busts out laughing once more.

“All right then. I’ll bring it up with Geoff and we can find a diner when the time comes.” Ryan says as he stands. A few minutes later they’re all heading down to the lobby.

\---

**10:22 AM**

“And then there were three.” Gavin mutters under his breath and Dan snickers at his tone.

“Not fond of the company, B?” He asks and Gavin slants him an unhappy look.

“Har har, B. You’re a riot.” Gavin bites out and Dan looks taken aback.

“Bloody hell, what’s got you in such a bind?”

“We’re catching lunch early, right? And then afterwards, we’ll return here to arrange a meeting with our little raven. What do you suppose has me on edge?” It takes a moment, but Dan gets it quick enough.

“You’re worried about that? Gavin, you had no control over that situation. No one is going to blame you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Michael is smart, B. Don’t do him a disservice by thinking he’ll throw you under the bus.”

“But Dan-”

“What the fuck are you two muttering about?” Michael cuts in voice tinged with something not reproachful, but not happy all the same.

“Gavin’s just worried about how you lot will be with the informant.” Dan admits and Gavin throws him a betrayed look.

“Really, you’re worried about that?” Michael scoffs and Gavin tries to recollect himself.

“Well I- I-”

“What’s the matter, Gavvers? Cat got your tongue?” Gavin licks his lips as he tries to ignore the weight Michael had given to the nickname.

“No. But I’ll say this now. When we meet with the informant, please think rationally.”

“Well that’s not cryptic at all.” Michael notes sarcastically, but Gavin’s immediate worry is already alleviated. And soon the moment is lost. Ryan comes into the lobby with his lips quirked and Gavin can hazard a guess that Geoff has given the go ahead for lunch.

“Shall we head out gentlemen?” Ryan asks with a flourish and Michael’s choppy laughter fills the air.

“But of course, Mr. Haywood. After you.”

They leave the station in high spirits and after they pile into a car, pull out of the lot, and are on the road, conversation of where to go picks up. 

“We shouldn’t pick a place where we have to wait long for the food.” Dan points out and Ryan nods from the driver’s seat.

“We should consider that, yeah. Anything else, any preferences?” Ryan asks as he makes a turn.

“Well, with my constitution, I can’t really eat anything, so my opinion has no bearing.” Gavin says and Michael turns around in his seat in shotgun to give him a look. 

“You can’t eat anything?” The worry Gavin feels coming off of Michael makes his head swim, but he ignores it in order to answer him.

“More like I don’t have to eat anything. I can eat a burger and some chips, but it won’t fill me up like blood will.” Gavin admits and the worry dissipates, but Michael is still watching him.

“What about you Dan?” Ryan asks and the werewolf shrugs.

“As long as there’s meat, I’m perfectly fine.” As Ryan steps on the breaks and the car comes to a stop, he and Michael share a look.

“Jersey Mikes?” Ryan proposes.

“Jersey Mikes.” Michael says in agreement.

“What’s Jersey Mikes?” Dan asks and Michael turns around again to toss Dan a grin.

“Just an all American experience, my good man. Prepare your body.” He replies will all the seriousness one can muster for fast food, but neither Gavin nor Dan question it.

“Consider me prepped.” Dan fires back wearing a cheeky grin of his own and Michael sits back in his seat just as Ryan presses on the acceleration.

When they get to the restaurant and Michael comments about being pressed into his seat by the force of the car moving forward Ryan just tosses his head back and laughs.

\---

**12:03 PM**

When they get back Geoff is waiting for them, and Gavin takes this as a sign to give the informant a call. Before he can duck away, however, Geoff catches him by the arm.

“Make the call in the conference room and put him on speaker. All of us need to be in on this conversation.” Michael can’t be sure, but he thinks he can see unwillingness in Gavin’s eyes and stance. He watches as Gavin and Geoff stare and stare until Gavin folds.

 _‘Is it me, or does he not look so good?’_ Michael asks himself as Gavin relents.

“All right then, shall we head down?” Geoff just lets go of him in response.

When they get to the conference room Gavin waits by the door until everyone is settled down at the table. There’s a lot of that, Michael thinks. A lot of settling down at the table, talking things through. Maybe it gets to him because he’s itching for action. Maybe it’s because he wants to go out and catch the sick motherfucker that’s responsible. Responsible for Ryan having to dedicate so much of his time to one case, and for making Geoff go against his own order and calling Michael in from leave. He’s even started wanting to catch this guy for Gavin and Dan’s sake. The both of them were sent across an ocean to help with a case on foreign soil, and despite what he knows about the both of them he’s worried. Worried for Dan who admitted he was a security measure put in place to keep an eye on Gavin. Worried for Gavin who looked he was going to fall over. The worry tears at Michael like a rabid dog as he tries to get comfortable in his chair, and it coils around his neck and lounges on his shoulders like a serpent as he folds his hands in front of him, resting his weight on his arms.

There is no conversation as Gavin takes out his phone and dials the number. Not word as he presses it to his ear and waits for it to ring and nothing when he takes it away and places it on the table. He enables the speaker function midway through the third ring.

 _“Hello?”_ A familiar voice asks Michael’s blood runs cold. _‘What the fuck?’_

“Hello, Ray. It’s Gavin.”

 _“Oh hey, Gavin. What’s up?”_ Michael can’t move. Ray sounds so casual, like it’s a regular thing for agents of the law to be calling him up in the middle of the day, and asking for help on an investigation.

“You said to call you again around this time so… here I am calling you. I’m at the police department right now and we need your help.” Gavin responds just as casual.

_“Right, so what do you need help with?”_

“Our lead suspect was found dead earlier today. We need your help to find another. Oh, and by the way, you’re on speaker.” The line goes so quiet Michael thinks Ray has hung up, but then Ray sighs, his breath hissing over the call and it startles him.

 _“Should I come over?”_ Ray asks, but it sounds like he’s already sure of the answer.

“I think it would be best if you did.” Gavin replies and it’s then Michael notices he isn’t looking at the phone like he was earlier.

_‘He’s looking at me. He’s trying to gauge my reaction. He knows that Ray and I know each other. Fucking fuck.’_

_“Okay, I’ll be there in a bit.”_ Michael hears movement on Ray’s end of the call. _“Hey Gavin?”_

“Yes, Ray?”

 _“Tell Michael not to be mad, please?”_ His hopeful tone makes Michael want to speak up, but considering what he’s just learnt about his friend, he keeps his mouth shut. Anything he had to say couldn’t be said civilly anyway.

“I’m sure he understands, Ray. Are you leaving now?” Gavin asks without taking his gaze away from Michael.

_“Yeah, I’m just about to head out.”_

“Okay. We’re in one of the conference rooms, so let us know when you’re close so someone can meet you in the lobby.”

_“Gotcha. Goodbye, Gavin.”_

“Goodbye, Ray.”

After the call ends Gavin scoops his phone up from the table and slips it back into his pocket. He is no longer looking in Michael’s direction, but Michael knows he wants to and he knows why. Michael’s emotions are a mess and he doesn’t quite know what to feel. He feels betrayed, he feels lied to, but at the same time he’s just numb. He’d always assumed that Ray’s YouTube thing was basically his only job, but he was always perplexed at how his friend could afford such expensive equipment even with the revenue he got from his partnership. Now it was all clear.

Half an hour later Gavin’s phone rings again.

“Ray? You’re here? All right, someone will meet you in the lobby.” He hangs up and his eyes rove around the room, gaze lingering on Michael before flicking over to Geoff.

“Who’s gonna go get him?” Geoff asks and Michael nearly leaps out of his seat.

“I’ll go. I need to talk with him anyways.” Geoff gives him an abrupt nod and Michael leaves without further prompting. He catches Gavin’s pained look as he walks out the door.

\---

Ray has never been as nervous as he is now; waiting for someone, anyone, to retrieve him from the station lobby. He just arrived a couple minutes ago, but he’s already so expectant and jumpy that he thinks he’ll vibrate out of his skin before anyone gets to him. It’s the sound of footsteps coming down the hall that drag him out of his musings, and it’s the sight of his best friend rounding the corner that makes his heart stutter in dread. It must show on his face because Michael gives him a look as he draws closer.

“I’m gonna be honest with you Ray, I never really expected to see you here, even under friendly pretenses.” Ray sighs. He’d anticipated this. It was Michael’s temper that he feared the most, because ultimately, it was justified. It wasn’t a good thing to have a friend of his screaming at him, no, but Ray understood how Michael worked. Michael appreciated truth, held those that told it in high regard. Yet here he was hiding a big part of himself away. He’d always planned on telling Michael about this part of himself, but the opportunity had never come up. At least, that was his excuse.

“I can explain on the way if you want. I won’t be able to cover much, but it’s better than nothing.” Michael’s face gives away nothing, not a lick of anger or wonder. He was pretty much stone, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his gaze not quite cold, but without its usual warmth. And Ray was never fond of the cold.

 _‘He’s seen some shit.’_ Ray thinks and he takes a deep breath.

“I just might take you up on that. C’mon, buddy, walk with me.” The way he talks, Michael makes it seem like Ray wasn’t called to come down to the station by someone that wasn’t him. The spring in his step makes it look like Ray has just come to visit, though he’s never been to the police station until now. It’s great and terrible all the same because Ray had expected yelling and maybe even a little bit of forceful physicality, but Michael’s behaviour is quite the contrary. He is stoic, giving away nothing and everything in equal measure.

_‘He’s been lied to before. Gavin being here is living proof of that. Fucking shit, everything’s a mess.’_

“So, how do you know Gavin?” Michael asks right off that bat and Ray winces.

“I don’t really _know_ him, but I know _of_ him, more specifically his work. I was also in the area at the time he came down to the club to question the people there.” Ray admits bringing hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“Why were you down there? No offense, but I’ve never taken you to be part of the club scene.” Michael says without any venom, but Ray’s lips quirk ruefully at that anyway.

“I was meeting a contact of mine. I’m an information broker, but it pays to have help. And before you ask, no I can’t tell you what information I went down for, partly because it isn’t relevant to your investigation and also because I agreed to keep it confidential.” Ray hears Michael click his tongue.

“Okay fine, but how did you become an informant anyways? Was it something you just fell into?” Ray laughs at that.

“Fuck Michael, you make it sound like I’m in a gang or something! No, no, it’s like this. Back when I lived in Ney York, my dad was a broker just like I am now. He had some friends in the supernatural community and didn’t want to be kept out of the loop so he read up on a bunch of shit. In my last year of high school he started showing me the ropes, and after I graduated I took up the job on a more permanent basis. Vlogging just became a thing I did to get away from dealing information, but people started watching my shit and soon enough I got a partnership. I divided my time between both jobs before I moved over here.”

“So you were already a broker by the time you started hanging out with me?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Jesus…” Michael says shaking his head, and Ray frowns.

“You’re not mad are you?” He asks worriedly and Michael just looks at him.

“Am I mad? A little bit, yes. But I understand why you kept this shit from me. It’s just like Geoff not telling me that Gavin was still alive. You were trying to protect me, weren’t you?” Ray smiles softly at that.

“That and it just never came up. If you’d have found out before you moved over I would have told you the truth.” Ray admits and Michael just shakes his head.

“I appreciate that, man.” Michael says and Ray smiles a little wider this time.

“Good to know.”

The both of them had stopped walking in the middle of their talk and it took a minute for Michael to realize they were just a few paces away from the conference room.

“Ready to head in?” Michael asks with a bit of a smirk and Ray takes a quick glance at the conference room doors and then looks back to Michael. He takes a deep breath and shakes himself on the exhale.

“Not really, but might as well, am I right?” Michael snorts.

“Might as well.” He agrees and then the both of them take the last few steps to the doors, walk into the room while the doors close behind them.

An array of familiar faces greets Ray as he steps further in to the room. He recognizes Geoff and Ryan from the times he’s met them before, and he remembers Dan and Gavin from when he helped them form their profile. Even with the torch of familiarity in hand, Ray was hesitant to step into the dark.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Ray tries and Gavin is the only one that smiles.

“It’s going pretty shitty, I’ll tell you that now. So what’s this about you helping us find another suspect?” Geoff queries and Ray has never found him to be so intimidating until now. It wasn’t the ink, he’d gotten used to Geoff’s tattoos way before, so it was down to his tone and the way he stood, feet shoulder width apart, one hand shoved into a pocket. The other rested on his hip just above his service piece.

“Well you’ve probably already heard from Gavin or Dan that I helped with the profile by giving them the word on the street and such. That’s most likely what I’m gonna do now, to tell you the truth.”

“It’s okay Ray, you can tell us whatever you have to say. We’re just pressed for time is all.” Ryan says in an attempt to placate him. Ray quirks a grateful grin before clearing his throat.

“Right, well what do you wanna know?” He asks and the others look to each other before Ryan speaks.

“Who would bear enough enmity against Simon Wake that they would kill him?” Ray shifts his weight from foot to foot as he thinks.

“Well he didn’t have any major enemies per se, but he did have some questionable friends. He came up a lot in conversation over in the supernatural community, but more so when his friends were mentioned. There was a guy he hung out with after the hubbub about him being missing died down. People would see them in the streets, but they never caused any trouble. That’s changed apparently.” Geoff nods when Ray looks to him for a response.

“This guy have a name?’ Michael asks brusquely and Ray nods.

“Alan Sharpe. Was kind of a nobody until he made friends with a human. A human named-”

“Simon Wake.” Michael finishes and Ray nods again.

“Exactly. There were also rumours going around that Simon didn’t go missing so much as he made himself disappear. I think he made friends with Sharpe before he decided to perform his vanishing act.”

“It makes sense,” Ryan starts after a while. “He falls in with Sharpe’s crowd, but his family might not have agreed with his choice in friends so he disappears and lays low until things die down and then he’s free to hang with Sharpe all he wants.”

“A little childish if you ask me.” Dan comments and Ray grins.

“Yeah, who goes missing just so he can tag along with people his mom and dad don’t like?” At his tone Geoff can’t help a grin.

“Fucking dicks you guys-” Is all he can let out before…

“ _Babies_.” Michael and Ray say together conspiratorially and Geoff guffaws loudly.

“Now that we know your senses of humour are all in working order, can we move on?” Gavin asks and Geoff tries to stifle his laughter and ends up having a coughing fit.

“Go ahead, Gav.”

“Is there anything else we might need to know, Ray?” Sufficiently settled now, Ray shrugs.

“Not really. He hangs out a lot downtown, but you already know that. I think he might have been at the club the same time the girls were, but I don’t believe he talked with them. He doesn’t fit the profile either.”

“He must have gotten Wake to talk to them for him then.” This comes from Ryan and a murmur of agreement greets Ray’s ears.

“That must be it then. If Sharpe doesn’t fit the profile it’s because he’s a variable we didn’t consider.” Gavin says expanding on Ryan’s point.

“So this is the lay of the land. Alan Sharpe is barely a blip on the supernatural radar until he makes friends with a human that ‘goes missing’ just to have a chance to hang out with him. This, in turn, inflates his ego so he steps his game up and tries something a little more ‘adventurous.’” Ray can clearly hear the quotation marks around the word adventurous and he sneers at Gavin’s implication.

“Hey Gavin, do me a favour would you?” Gavin slants him a look but Ray doesn’t flinch.

“And what would that be?”

“Catch him and make sure he can’t hurt anyone else. If not for me, do it for the families and friends of the victims. Please?”

“We’ll certainly endeavour to do that, BrownMan.” Michael says with the utmost sincerity and Ray can’t help but let out a relieved laugh.

When he’d first met Michael all he’d seen in him was a good guy with a fiery temper. When he’d found out that he was a cop he’d been, quite frankly, extremely surprised that someone with such a short fuse had the discipline to work in such a demanding job. Hearing about his promotion to detective and his subsequent move to Austin had Ray swelling with pride for his friend. And that same pride roared within him like a bonfire that warmed him from his core to all of his extremities.

“All right then, anything else you guys need?”

“Not really, no. But hey, thanks Ray.” Geoff says coming up with a hand outstretched that Ray takes gladly.

“No problem. If there’s ever a next time, and god I hope not, you can make use of me, okay? It’ll be on the house like it was for your two Brits over there.”

“You get paid for the shit you do?” Michael asks with more surprise than Ray had expected.

“Well yeah, I’m an info broker, asshole. I don’t bandy out shit left and right for free. You’re lucky I didn’t charge you the flat rate.”

“All right, all right, thank you Ray.” Geoff speaks impatiently, but Ray knows he’s grateful too.

“Fine, fine, I get the message. I’ll be going now.” He’s out the door and halfway down the hall when Michael catches up to him.

“Hey, let me walk you out?”

“Why, Mr. Jones, you are too kind. Tell me, did the Southern hospitality bug hit you too?”

“Oh fuck off dickhead; just let me walk with you, okay?” And it’s just in that little ‘okay’ that tells Ray all he needs to know about Michael up to this point. He’s still the hot tempered cop Ray met in Jersey, he’s still the guy who will scream at you over X-Box Live, but he’s also the guy Ray looked to for advice when he made the move to Austin a year after he left for his promotion, and he is also the guy Ray trusts to do what’s right whatever the fuck that may be.

“Okay, Mogar, walk me to the door.” Ray acquiesces and Michael lets out an honest laugh, a laugh that had been rare for two years too long.

“Fuck yeah, Mogar’s got you BrownMan. Or is it Tuxedo Mask?” It’s Ray turn to laugh loudly.

“Damn straight!”

Even when the station is just a dot on the horizon behind him, the grin doesn’t leave Ray’s face not even when he gets back to his apartment and signs in to Live. It remains fastened to his face by a stupid amount of appreciation for what he has, and what he might have. And that good mood follows him when he falls asleep on his couch in the middle of playing for an achievement.

\---

**1:10 PM**

When Michael gets back to the conference room, Ryan, Gavin, Geoff, and Dan are all huddled together at one end of the table and look to be in the middle of a discussion. When they all look up when he comes through the door he gets the feeling that he’s missed something.

“Is there something on my face?”

“No…” Ryan replies perplexed.

“Then what the fuck are you looking at?” Michael asks exasperatedly.

“We were talking about going out to confirm Ray’s information and we wanted your input.” Dan says and Michael’s exasperation deflates.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so what do you want to do? Do you wanna head out now, or wait a bit?” Geoff asks and Michael scoffs.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m heading out. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m staying in here when our killer is out there.”

“Good, because we already agreed that I’d stay here to look after things while the rest of you hit the ground running.” A vicious grin knifes its way across Michael’s face.

“Then what the fuck are we waiting for, let’s go.”

There is no room for argument. Michael is already out of the room and heading for his desk in the bullpen. He’s gone off to get his gun, and hopefully he won’t need it, but he feels better with it on his hip, more secure. He knows it’s a crutch that he should let go of, but he’s taking things slowly, taking one step at a time so he can be sure of his footing instead of running full tilt only to trip a few metaphorical feet forward. The little stumble he takes when he spies the earpiece Joel had given him the day Gavin had jumped, _and survived_ , throws him off balance though.

It throws him off enough that he isn’t aware that he’d been followed until he looks up from retrieving his gun and finds Gavin standing in front of his desk. He’s wearing an all-black suit that makes his eyes greener than they actually are. Unable to help himself Michael brings his gaze down Gavin’s body, admiring the fit of the jacket across his shoulders and the sight of his narrow hips in those slacks, when he notices the handgun in its holster strapped to Gavin’s left thigh. Some ludicrous part of his mind imagines Gavin wearing the holster without the slacks and the image makes him cough and turn away from the agent to hide the flush that paints his cheeks.

“Are you all right, Michael?” Gavin asks in a tone saturated in innocence. Michael knows Gavin can’t read minds, but he feels that Gavin knows exactly what he’s thinking. The motherfucker.

“You have a gun?” Michael asks instead of replying to Gavin’s ploy. _‘I’ve done nothing but scream at him and question his motives, why the fuck does he try to joke with me?’_

“Hm, it’s uncommon for SID agents to have firearms, but I’m not the only one who has one.” He gives Michael a sly look. “I’m not the only one with a thigh holster either, if you were going to ask that.” Traitorously, Michael’s eyes flick down to the holster again and he gulps.

“I wasn’t going to ask that, but thanks I guess.” He lets out inelegantly and Gavin laughs, high and bright.

“No problem, Michael.” Gavin says with a cheeky smirk and Michael looks away before his mind can go into detail about how soft Gavin’s lips look. _‘Good god, I am fucked.’_  

“All right chucklefucks, enough with the flirting.” Geoff’s voice rings out loudly and Michael jumps. “You guys got everything?” He asks as Ryan walks over from his desk.

“Everything that’s reasonable.” Ryan quips and Geoff lets out a forced laugh.

“You’re a riot, Haywood. However did you get into police work?”

“The same way anyone gets a job.” He replies enigmatically and Geoff frowns.

“Okay. New rule, no dick jokes on duty.” Gavin and Michael share smiles with one another while Dan cracks up and Ryan smirks. Geoff just frowns. “Just go. Go and call me when you’re on your way back.”

“Yes sir!” Ryan calls out as he starts towards the exit.

“I regret hiring you guys sometimes.” Geoff mumbles, but Gavin hears it even as he trots off after Ryan.

“No you don’t!” Michael and Dan don’t participate in the mockery, but they wear matching grins as they leave the building.

They take Michael’s car this time, and much like the others, the drive is silent.

\---

**1:27 PM**

Their first stop is the Speakeasy which was undoubtedly their killer’s favourite hunting ground. A common theme amongst the victims, aside from the girl that the remains belonged to, was that they’d been seen at the Speakeasy before their bodies had been found. Wake didn’t count for obvious reasons, and the unnamed girl was excluded as she’d yet to be identified. It’d angered Michael greatly when Joel had come to him and told them she’d been listed as a Jane Doe because of a lack of identification, but it couldn’t be helped. Sharpe, and Michael desperately wanted the killer to be Sharpe, had been meticulous with his past murders and it was only because of his vanity that Moira Lowe, Cassie Lafayette, Lucinda Dane, and Lana Forde didn’t have to go unnamed.

So they’d asked around, and yes, Alan Sharpe was a frequent patron of the Speakeasy and, as it turned out, a regular of the club that he and Wake had been seen at. It was unfortunate that he wasn’t seen directly interacting with the girls before they’d gone missing, but several people had been all too happy to confirm that yes, he was a douchebag that thought highly of himself. And not only that, he was a douchebag who wanted others to think highly of him as well.

It’s in the most unlikely of places that they get their biggest tip about Sharpe apart from what Ray had told them. They’d gone to a sandwich shop to get some cold drinks to combat the afternoon heat after Dan had made a suggestion do so, and it was in that sandwich shop that one of the employees tending the register had caught a bit of their conversation about Sharpe. He’d never really gotten to know the man, but he had experienced his special brand of douchebaggery first hand.

“I used to work as a bartender at the club Sharpe and his buddies would go to when they weren’t in the mood for the Speakeasy or any of the other bars downtown. I don’t know if this was always the case, but he never went up to the girls himself. I heard that he’d get his friends to chat them up and bring them over if they weren’t put off by his ‘wingmen.’

“If they did come over, Sharpe was charming as fuck to them. He’d compliment them and buy them drinks, but to me, the way he did things was always stilted. Kinda like he was playing a role rather than really trying to get with them. They might have known that too, but I couldn’t really be sure. And I never heard anything about the murders, but I heard all about the missing person reports. After the third girl, Lafayette (?) went missing; I quit my tending job and applied here.”

Ryan had thanked him graciously for his time, and when they left they agreed that if Sharpe wasn’t behind the killings, they were fucked. And if Lana _had_ been turned in some sick effort to get the media’s attention, they were screwed so bad that the only road to take was for Michael and Ryan to quit the force, and for Dan and Gavin to return to England and never take a case out of their jurisdiction again. Ant attempt to cover the case up would make things worse.

It was as if they’d dug down to bedrock and had broken their only tools. It was possible to get out of the hole, but not without repercussions.

After getting back into Michael’s car and a few minutes on the road, Gavin calls Geoff. Focusing mostly on driving, Michael doesn’t hear every word Gavin says, but he gets the gist that their conversation is very one sided. It doesn’t last very long either.

\---

**1:41 PM**

When they get back to the station, Ryan immediately goes ahead to Geoff’s office to tell the man about their findings. Dan, Michael, and Gavin enter the bullpen at more of a sedate pace, but it isn’t saying much. When Michael gets to his desk he quickly replaces his gun in its locked drawer and tries to get comfortable in his chair. Dan stands like the soldier he’d been, back straight and feet shoulder width apart, while Gavin practically sits on the edge of his desk. And while the bullpen is never silent, the sounds of people milling around on the main level is just background noise.

“So the general consensus is that Sharpe is an egotistic asshole who doesn’t like to do his own dirty work.” Michael hears Geoff say to Ryan as the both of them come out of his office.

“According to the profile he has no problem working alone when it comes to killing, but before all of that, you’re completely correct.”

“Fucking dicks I hate this part of the job.” Geoff says and Ryan’s response is a humourless laugh.

“The part where you find out how depraved some of the world can be?”

“Exactly that, yes.” They’re a few feet away from Michael’s little section of the bullpen when Dan speaks up.

“Hey, Geoff?” Dan asks and the man in question looks away from Ryan.

“Yeah?”

“Could I use your phone to make a call to our director?”

“You wanna update him about the investigation, right?”

“Yep.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Dan nods his thanks and lopes off which leaves Gavin and Michael in close, _close,_ proximity to one another. Try as he might, it doesn’t take very long for Michael to give in and focus his attention on Gavin.

Even from the back he looks like a painting come to life. Made up of contrasting lines with sun kissed skin, perpetually windswept hair, and eyes Michael can’t pin to the colour spectrum, he leaves Michael frustrated and wanting all at once. The ache to touch him flares white and hot, but Michael resists tempering it with the icy cold of Gavin’s skin because acting on desire now would fuck up things between them worse than they already were. Considering the relationship they had, Michael was surprised they were on first name basis. Especially after Gavin had called him by his last name the other day in a tone that still makes Michael shudder in what can only be called fear.

At first glance, Gavin seems relaxed. But his head is turned to the side like he’s distracted by something. Michael knows that something is Dan.

“Does he talk about anything other than the case?” Michael asks before he can think better of it and Gavin twists around to look at him.

“Hm? What was that, Michael?” He’d noticed before, but looking at him now, Michael could see that Gavin looked worse than he previously had.

“Does Dan give your director updates on things not pertaining to the case?” Michael tries again and when Gavin looks away, he tries not to feel hurt.

“Surely you know this already.” He states blandly and Michael frowns.

“Refresh my memory?”

“Dan is capable of many things, but one of the main reasons he came over with me was for security. Our director is very cognizant of the wellbeing of his agents and it’s Dan’s job to inform him of my status, along with telling him about the proceedings of the investigation.” His tone is level, controlled, but strained, and Michael knows Gavin isn’t in love with the idea of Dan coming over to Austin to look after him.  

“Right.”

“See, you do know. Why bother asking?” Gavin asks testily and Michael actually has to think of an answer. He ends up taking the honest route.

“Maybe I like hearing your voice.” Is what he says, but Gavin doesn’t turn.

“Such a charmer you are, Michael. I dare say I’m smitten.” Gavin claims in monotone, but Michael laughs.

“Oh my…” At that Gavin snickers and Michael counts it as a victory.

“Oi, B!” Michael grimaces at the speed Gavin’s head turns in the direction of Geoff’s office.

“Yeah?”

“C’mere. Director wants to speak with you.” Michael isn’t sure what it is, but for an unknown reason, Dan’s answer sets Gavin off. He doesn’t explode in anger though. Michael’s come to realize that Gavin is one of those people that grow quiet when angry. 

“You told him, didn’t you? You bloody snitch.” Gavin admonishes coldly, but Dan looks unrepentant.

“Just come take the phone and talk with him.”

Wordlessly, Gavin gets off of Michael’s desk and heads over to Geoff’s office. And then Michael, Geoff, and Ryan watch nervously as Gavin and Dan seems to stare each other down. The staring match does last long, however, when Gavin hisses something at Dan too low for anyone else to hear before disappearing into the office.

\---

Stepping into Geoff’s workspace, Gavin is overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia. Even after taking a cursory look around he knows that not much has changed. The walls look like they’ve been repainted and there are more books scattered about, but the same picture of Geoff’s wife and daughter smiles up at him. His heart aches when he remembers that he hasn’t seen them since the jump. He picks up the phone.

“Hello father…”

\---

“What was that all about?” Geoff asks after Dan has joined them.

“Dunno.” Michael replies while Ryan shrugs. The only person who does know is Dan and he doesn’t look he’s gonna talk. Geoff looks like he wants to ask more, but a shout from Gavin has everyone looking over in the direction of Geoff’s office.   

“…know what I’m doing, sir! No! Yes, I’m fine! Agent Gruchy is exaggerating, I-” Gavin stops speaking as his director, presumably, cuts him off.

“Yes, I have provisions with me, I’m not an idiot. Really? Well, it was heavily implied. I- hold on. Dan!” Gavin’s voice is louder than Michael has ever heard it, and he flinches when he pokes his head out of Geoff’s office looking absolutely livid. The almost sickly cast to his skin, in concert with his anger, makes him look less human, but Michael can’t bring himself to look away.  

“Yes Gavin?” Dan asks almost uncaringly.

“Why’d you have to bloody tell him? I told you not to worry, that I was fine. Why would you-” Worry? Why would Dan have to worry aside from the obvious?

“Why would I go against you? You’re smarter than you look Gavin, why don’t you tell me? Or better yet, explain to me how neglecting your health is logical in any way. Can you do that?”

Hold the fuck up. Neglecting his-

“Dan-”

“What the fuck is going on?” Geoff yells unwittingly on Michael’s behalf.

“Go on Gavin, tell them. Tell them how you haven’t been feeding.”

“ _Daniel._ ” Gavin hisses, but Dan ploughs on.

“No, Gavin! Just because you’re second in command doesn’t make you invincible!” Dan shouts and the look on Gavin’s face is practically murderous. His eyes are blazing, full of rage, and if Michael was unsure as to what would piss him off, he sure as hell knew now. He can _feel_ Gavin’s anger building, but before he can exact his ire, MESA’s director speaks up and diverts Gavin’s attention back to their conversation. (That’s what it looks like at least.) Still a little shaken, Michael takes a relieved breath when Gavin puts the phone back to his ear.

“No sir, it won’t have to come to that. Yes, I understand.” Gavin says stiltedly into the receiver.

“What the fuck do you mean when you say ‘second in command’?” Geoff snaps, turning Michael’s attention back over to him. Dan frowns.

“It’s distasteful to ask a question you already know the answer to.” He says and a sullen expression takes over Geoff’s face. 

“Just answer the fucking question.” Geoff snaps and Michael watches and Dan’s face changes from something human to something monstrous and then back again.

“He’s the bloody Vice Director, all right? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Dan practically roars and Geoff’s eyes go so wide Michael can fully see the whites. And it’s disconcerting as fuck because he’s so used to seeing Geoff all droopy eyed and relaxed that he has no idea how to react.

“I thought he worked in integration!?” Geoff’s voice cracks on every word and Michael can only sympathize with him. The way Gavin had said things made it seem like he was just some agent come across the pond to help in an American case because his abilities were of expert caliber. It made Michael wonder if he ever told the truth about anything.  

 _‘And to think I told him just earlier today I trusted him.’_ Michael thinks forlornly.

“His office is on the same floor of integration, as per his request, but he isn’t an official part of that department.” Dan says, oblivious to Michael’s reverie.

“But why would he li- Why would he keep that from us?” Ryan asks and no one fails to catch how he corrects himself.

“Because if I’d have told you about my position, none of you would have treated me the way you have up until this point. You already had a primary on the case and I had no intention of overstepping that by telling you of my real position.” Ryan and Geoff turn to face Gavin who looks less furious than he had only minutes ago, but that isn’t saying much. Michael could also tell that releasing his temper had taken a lot out of him. He looked even paler, more tired, much _smaller,_ and Michael was sure that if he pressed a hand to Gavin’s cheek his cheekbone would slice his palm open.

And Michael had seen a lot of scary shit, but the scariest thing was how Gavin _fucking swayed_ when he made his way over to them.

“Gavin?” Dan asks but Gavin goes on as if he hasn’t heard. He keeps walking, but barely makes it to the stairs before his eyes roll back in his head, his legs give out from under him, and he crumples to the floor.

“Fuck! _Gavin!_ ”

\---

**2:12 PM**

Michael doesn’t know who reaches Gavin first, but he does remember seeing Geoff take his limp body into his arms, gently shaking him, but desperately trying to get him to wake.

“What the fuck is wrong with him, Dan?” Geoff screams and when Michael looks, the agent is the epitome of terrified.

“He hasn’t fed the entire time he’s been on the case.” Dan replies shakily.

“But it’s only been two days!”

“Yeah, but there’s also the emotional stress to consider.” Dan points out and Michael flinches.

“Fucking Christ.” Geoff spits.

“We can’t take him to a hospital, can we?” Ryan asks and Dan shakes his head.

“That’d be hard to explain, wouldn’t it? Since he’s you know…” Dan trails off but Ryan gets it.

“He said something about provisions. Where are they?” Michael asks and Dan stares.

“They’re back at the hotel.”

“That’s pretty fucking far away, though.” Geoff chimes in and Michael curses.

“Is there anywhere else we can take him?” This comes from Ryan. It’s only for a few seconds, but everyone falls silent. No one contributes anything and Michael will remember this moment only because the feeling of his heart dropping is hard to forget.

“Michael,” Geoff says and Michael looks to him.

“Yeah?”

“Your apartment isn’t too far from here, is it?” Geoff asks and Michael looks to him in confusion.

“It’s ten minutes away tops. Why?” Geoff doesn’t say anything, just clutches onto Gavin and _looks_ at Michael until it sinks in.

“Why the fuck would we bring him to my apartment?” Michael’s voice practically raises an octave but Geoff doesn’t look like he’s going to give in.

“It’s better than nothing.” Is the only thing he says as he gathers Gavin into his arms and stands.

“Fine.”

\---

While Ryan stays behind to reassure the curious force members that the earlier commotion is nothing to worry about, Geoff (carrying Gavin bridal style), Dan, and Michael race out to the parking lot, search frantically for Michael’s car and then speed out of the lot.

Almost running a red light, and feeling completely apologetic in response to the car horns that blast behind him, Michael clings to the steering wheel while Dan tends to Gavin in the back seat. It’s a stake to the chest when he hears Gavin mumbling incoherently as he drifts in and out of consciousness. For all the time he’s been in Austin, Michael has already gotten used to his almost formal way of speaking and his educated mannerisms. He’s sure that the real Gavin is completely different, or at least a contrast to how he acts on duty, but to see him so far gone steels Michael’s ability to articulate how he feels. All he can do is take fleeting glances at him in the rear view mirror, but he mostly gets an eyeful of Dan’s face drawn in intense worry.

“How much farther is it, Michael?” Dan asks as if Michael’s thoughts had called him to speak.

“Not much.” He answers vaguely. And he wasn’t lying. Taking into account how he broke speeding laws to get to the point they’re at now, this drive to his apartment is significantly shorter time wise.

A couple minutes later Michael is pulling into the parking lot of his building, shoving the gear shift into park as soon as he finds a spot and then rushing out of the car to help Dan get Gavin out of the back seat. After some bizarre, non-verbal arguing, Michael has Gavin on his back. With some maneuvering, Michael hands his keys to Geoff. 

“Go on ahead and unlock the door. You remember the door number, right?” Geoff just nods jerkily and Michael lets him rush off, he and Dan following slowly after.

\---

**2:20 PM**

Once Michael gets Gavin situated on his sofa he turns to face Geoff and Dan.

“So what do we do now?” Dan asks and Michael folds his arms.

“You can’t drive can you Dan?” Michael asks and Dan gives him a perplexed look.

“Well I can, but not legally.” Dan answers slowly, still unsure if his reply is what Michael wants.

“Right, so Geoff will have to drive you to your hotel to get whatever Gavin needs.”

“What?” This comes from Geoff and Michael focuses on him and then his keys that Geoff still has in hand.

“You heard what I said, Geoff.” Michael snaps not in the mood to reiterate.

“All right, all right, we’ll go.” Michael walks them to the door though it’s a little unnecessary. Before he steps out the door, however, Dan catches him by the arm.

“You’re certain you’ll take care of him?” Michael makes eye contact with him.

“I promise to do so to the best of my ability.” Michael practically vows, and he’s really fucking proud of himself when he doesn’t waver under Dan’s unyielding gaze. The agent stares and stares, no doubt scrutinizing Michael, but he stops before Michael can say anything.

“Right then, we’ll be off.” Michael nods having nothing else to say. When he locks the door after them he deflates.

“Hello?” Asks a weak voice and Michael hightails it to the living room. What he finds is Gavin trying, and failing, to sit up on the couch. His arms shake as he tries to prop himself up and his face is white as a sheet.  The flash of fangs Michael sees when he bares his teeth in pain has Michael slightly terrified.  

“Hey, hey, don’t try to get up, dumbass.” Michael says in a rush as he kneels by Gavin’s side and helps him straighten out, easing him into a sitting position. Once he looks comfortable he pins Michael with a stare that communicates nothing.

“Where am I?” He asks and Michael tries to ignore how he rubs at his throat. He fails miserably.

“My apartment.”

“Why?” His clueless tone makes Michael want to grab him by the front of his shirt and shake him until he gains some sense. ‘Why? You fucking forgot to feed and your body gave up on you!’ is what Michael wants to scream, but Gavin doesn’t need someone yelling at him right now. He might need it later, but Michael has always been one to think of the present.

“You collapsed back at the station and we couldn’t exactly bring you to the hospital. Geoff and Dan helped get you here and they’ve gone out to get your shit from your hotel room.” Michael says instead as he tries not to let himself be irritated. Something he’s noticed about Gavin is that he doesn’t like being looked after by others if his reaction to Dan telling their director about him not feeding is anything to go by. And it’s most likely amplified by Gavin not being human.

It’s pure speculation, but Michael has a feeling that Gavin is so reckless because he knows the limits of his kind. He knows what stings, what bruises, what _kills,_ and he uses that knowledge to (unintentionally) scare the living day lights out of those that care for him. The best example, no matter how much Michael hates thinking about it, is when Gavin leapt from the building in exchange for the freedom of Geoff’s daughter. Now, if Michael were in that same situation, he’d have made the same choice to jump, but he sincerely doubts that he’d go through with it. After all, it wasn’t really an exchange of lives when the one making the sacrifice could come back or survive the killing blow.

But Gavin’s recklessness was something Michael liked about Gavin as well. It was so _Gavin_ that Michael would be hard pressed to look at the other man and not think that he was the type of person to make rash decisions. Gavin was a man of action, he leapt before he looked, and while he feared the fall, it was only to be expected. He didn’t necessarily look for danger, but when danger found him, he embraced it fully despite how idiotic it came across to others.

“Do you hate me, Michael?” Gavin asks so suddenly that it jerks Michael from his thoughts.

“What?” Rather than try to reply, Gavin tries, again, to move on his own, but Michael quickly pushes him against the couch.

“Do you hate me?” Gavin repeats and Michael bites his lip.

“I don’t hate you, Gavin.” Michael says and Gavin stares at him before he starts to laugh. It’s all so sudden that Michael flinches back. Meanwhile Gavin is still laughing. It’s high and bright just like before, but it isn’t happy. In the short time he’s known him, Michael has thought of Gavin’s laughter to bring joy. But now, in place of exultation, his laughter calls in a crippling sadness that washes over Michael and leaves him thrashing wildly in the waves.

“Oh, but you do hate me, Michael. I can feel it, even now. I’m empathic, remember? You hate me for the lies I told and continue to tell even if you don’t intend to. Your behaviour is also very telling.”

“Oh and you’re such an expert on human behaviour, are you?”

Right away Michael realizes that’s the worst question he could have possibly asked because the smile, no matter how sad, leaves Gavin’s face rendering it blank. The only trace of emotion Michael sees is in Gavin’s eyes, blue-green like the vast, open sea Michael is drowning in.

“I _was_ human once, Michael.” Gavin reminds him icily and Michael’s eyes close as he tries to remain calm. Gavin isn’t attacking him, he’s never attacked Michael. He’s only ever stated simple fact, but Michael is just so tired of information being kept from him. He’s fucking exhausted of stumbling around in the dark without even a match.

So when Gavin tells him something he already knows it’s a little hard not to be annoyed. It’s information, sure, but it’s not the information he _wants._

“I know that asshole, I just- _Fucking hell._ ” His gaze falls to the carpet and he hears Gavin laugh again.

“It’s all right Michael, I understand. If I didn’t I wouldn’t be very good at my job, now would I?” Michael’s head comes up so he can look Gavin in the eyes. What he sees in them makes Michael frantic.

“God, just- What is it- What do you need?” When Gavin doesn’t say anything right away, Michael wants to scream.

“Blood.” Gavin states succinctly, no doubt sensing his distress and Michael stiffens.

“What?” Michael doesn’t really need to ask, but the buzzing, now full on white noise, is back and he just wants it to go away. The last time he’d heard the buzzing was before Ray had come down to the station. Geoff had been so keyed up that everyone could tell he was worried. It had taken a few words from Gavin to calm him down. And Michael wanted that quick release for himself.

“Don’t be obtuse, Michael. You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do! I just-”

“Would you like to hear a story, Michael?” Gavin asks, cutting Michael off, but he’s grateful. The buzzing can still be heard at the back of his mind, but it’s subsided some.

“Sure, okay, go ahead…” Michael trails off before he starts rambling. He pretends it doesn’t make things slightly better when a smile returns to Gavin’s face.

“Well, back when I was a human, empathy wasn’t exactly my strong suit. And while I wasn’t a complete arsehole, you would have hated me more than you already do. I was a right prick, Michael.”

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you? I don’t hate you Gavin.” Michael growls, but Gavin just smiles a genial smile tinged with skepticism. It makes Michael want to punch that stupid smile off of his stupid face.

“You’re very kind to say so, Michael.” The sound of knocking prevents Michael from replying. And when he goes to answer the door not even the sight of Geoff and Dan on the other side can alleviate him of his sour mood.

“We can’t stay long. Got a call from Jack about something he needs me to look at, so you know, duty calls.” Geoff explains all in one breath, but the look on Michael’s face doesn’t change. Geoff himself is empty handed, but Michael notices Dan adjust the strap of a duffle bag he has on his shoulder.  

“What about you, Dan? You going with him?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to see if Gavin was all right.” For a split second Michael contemplates grabbing the bag from Dan and slamming the door shut in his face. But he and Gavin are best friends and Dan is undoubtedly much stronger than Michael, so he steps back and lets the werewolf in.

“He still looks pale as shit, but he’s awake at least.” Michael says as Dan pads along behind him.

“That’s good, that’s really good.”

“Yeah.” Michael agrees monotonously.

“Hey B, what’re you doing here?” Gavin asks when he sees Dan behind Michael. As he shunts himself off to the side to allow Dan and Gavin a little moment together, Michael notices how Dan slows down as he crouches in front of Gavin. His movements become less hurried and more languid, much like how an old dog approaches its equally as old master. The comparison leaves a lot to be desired, but it’s not as if Michael is going to share it with anyone.

“We brought you some stuff, Geoff and I.” The smile that alights on Gavin’s face is impish, promising mischief, and Michael wants to turn away, but at the same time he wants to capture what Gavin looks like when he’s happy. Whether it’s for future reference or just because he thinks Gavin looks better happy, Michael doesn’t know. (More like Michael doesn’t want to admit that it’s a complicated mix of both.)

“Stuff? I like stuff.” Gavin says playfully and Dan laughs softly. Michael feels like he’s going to be sick.

“I know.” After setting the duffle at the foot of the couch, he stands and gives a two fingered salute. “See you later, B?” He asks cocking his head to the side.

“See you later, B.” Gavin replies nodding.

He doesn’t see it, but Michael knows Dan is smiling. A second later the agent turns and makes for the front hall.

Michael follows Dan to the door and locks up after him. Again. And when the sight of Dan (and Geoff) at his front door are nothing more than a memory, Michael leaves the safety of his little front hall, re-enters his living room, and finds Gavin rifling through the bag Dan and Geoff had brought over.

The sight of blood bags stops Michael dead in his advance to the couch. From this distance Michael can just make out the different labels on each of the blood bags Gavin has in each hand.

“Do you have a favourite type? You know, with like, juice or I guess alcohol would be a better analogy. I mean, it burns when it goes down, right? Like whiskey or vodka or-”

“Michael.” He stops talking when Gavin calls his name. But instead of being angry at getting cut off, he’s thankful for it. He’d been rambling and he might have, _would have_ , talked himself into a downward spiral not even Ryan could devise a way to get him out of it.

“S-sorry, I-”

“It’s fine. Do you have a glass I could borrow?”

“What for?” Michael asks and Gavin lifts a blood bag in reply. “Oh, uh, right.”

He can feel Gavin’s stare as he crosses over to the kitchen.

“Will a mug do?” Michael asks from behind his shield of a cupboard door.

“Sure.” Gavin replies and Michael nods to himself.

After grabbing a mug Michael walks back to the living room and hands it to Gavin. He watches as Gavin brings a blood bag to his mouth and tears it open with his teeth and turns away when Gavin goes to pour it into the mug. He looks back in time to see Gavin lick some blood from his fingers. Fuck.

“Um…”

“Could you warm this up for me?” Gavin asks and Michael hesitates, eyes zeroing in on the blood filled mug. He tunes in at the right moment to hear, “I mean, you said that I shouldn’t try to get up, and though I’m not one for being coddled I know that going against you would get me nowhere so-”

“Uh, no, I mean, sure. Give it here.” Michael says quickly and Gavin goes quiet. When Michael gestures for the mug Gavin hands it to him carefully for which Michael is appreciative of. As law enforcement he’s seen blood before, in and out of crime scene photos. He hadn’t been as bothered then but, somehow, seeing blood out of the human body and in a mug is much more chilling than seeing it splattered on a wall or pooled under a corpse. Leaving the living room, Michael tries not to think about what that says about him.

“How long should I put it in for?” Michael asks when he’s standing in front of the microwave.

“Thirty to forty seconds should be fine.” Nodding more to himself than to acknowledge that he’d heard, Michael opens the microwave door, puts the mug on the microwave tray, and punches in the time accordingly. Forty seconds later the appliance beeps at him and he opens it up and slowly takes out the reheated mug of blood. The scent that wafts up to him is thick and metallic and cloying and he certainly does not rush back to the living room to give it to Gavin so he doesn’t have to hold it anymore. In no fucking way is that the case.

After Gavin accepts the mug, Michael sits next to him on the couch. But he sits as far away from him as he possibly can and sits in silence as Gavin brings the mug to his lips and takes a sip of O negative.

\---

**2:41 PM**

Four emptied bags of blood and four subsequently reheated mugs later, Gavin still looks absolutely awful. Michael doesn’t get it. Wasn’t blood supposed to make a vampire feel better? From his limited knowledge, Michael assumed that blood wasn’t just sustenance to vampires, but that it had healing properties as well. Was he wrong?

“What’s got you in such a tizzy, Michael?” Gavin asks from his end of the couch. In the time that he’d been drinking he’d shifted away from Michael until his back was pressed against the arm rest opposite of the one Michael was pretty much slumped over. Michael tries not to over think on what that distance means.

“You still look like shit. Why the fuck don’t you look better?” Michael asks, tone full of confusion an irritation. He jumps when Gavin barks a laugh at his reply.

“Jesus, Michael. I never took you to be someone so superficial. Do my looks really matter to you that much?” _‘He’s baiting me,’_ Michael thinks. _‘He’s yanking on the chain he wrapped around my neck two years ago, but fuck him if I’m gonna go down.’_

“No, what matters to me is that if you’re not at your best, you’re a detriment to this investigation.” He’s not going to sugar coat anything. If Gavin can make the assumption that he was used to death in his profession, Michael had the right to assume that Gavin was used to people expecting the best from him. He’d lived long enough and had a high position at MESA for a reason. And though Michael believed in Gavin’s capabilities, he gave nothing away.

“Very well, what would you like to know?”

“Why aren’t you back to normal?” Gavin narrows his eyes at Michael’s phrasing, but Michael is past the point of being apologetic.

“Back to normal? What, were you expecting my vitality to come rushing back after a few bags of blood?”

“Well, yeah…?” Even as he replies he realizes how ridiculous it sounds.

“Well now, I do feel marginally better, but it’s going to take more than just blood to restore myself considering how it wasn’t fresh.”

“Fresh?” Michael wonders and Gavin gives him an unamused look.

“You know what I mean, Michael.” Gavin says in a no nonsense sort of voice and Michael swallows. No matter how much the statement unsettles him, despite how much it makes him feel like the blood in his veins runs ice cold from the chill he feels, he does know. He knows that when Gavin says fresh he means right from the body. The blood bags were clearly from donors and, short of Gavin telling him directly, there was no way for Michael to find out how old the blood inside them was.  

“What the fuck do we do then?” Michael asks and suddenly Gavin is closer than he originally was. It catches Michael off guard because Gavin had barely moved since he’d settled on the other side of the couch. _‘I moved closer to him.’_ Michael realizes.  

“I don’t know.” Gavin admits in a voice so low that Michael strains to hear it. When Gavin says nothing further, Michael resists the urge to grab a hold of Gavin and throttle the foppish asshat until he says something that Michael can do something with.

He shifts in his seat as he tries to think, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his legs as he brings his hands together. They twist and untwist as he racks his brain for a solution.

With the case looming over them, they’re hard pressed for time. The blood bags may have provided temporary relief, but if Gavin were to ‘get better’ in time, he needed to feed straight from the source. There was where their troubles lay. The chance that they could find someone to ‘donate’ blood for a good cause was slim and the idea to call up the Dallas branch only held appeal for so long until Michael remembered what Geoff thought about them. He was (mostly) sure Geoff was exaggerating about them being unreliable, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

It just _wasn’t._

The sound of fabric rustling gets Michael to look up just as Gavin stretches his legs out on the cushions, clearly tired of having them bent to his chest.

“Hey, Gavin…” Michael trails off.  

“What is it, Michael?” Gavin asks when he realizes Michael won’t say anything until he gets a response.  

“I have an idea of what we could do, but I need you to tell me if it’s too... out there, I guess.” He wasn’t looking for Gavin’s input so much as he was looking for his reaction. Because the way Michael saw it, if he pitched his plan and Gavin reacted accordingly, he would push and push until Gavin caved because it was the only way.

“All right…” Gavin agrees, but he sounds incredibly hesitant. Michael is too busy combating his nerves to feel triumphant, but he takes in a deep breath, holds it, and then breathes out heavily. _‘Here goes…’_

“What if you fed from me?”

For a long time Gavin doesn’t say a word. He just stares at Michael like he’s lost all sense, and if it were any other time and someone told him that he’d be offering himself, his blood, to a vampire he’d have thought he was out of his mind too. But no, Michael had all his wits about him, all his faculties in check. Neither he nor Gavin were stupid people and if they did this properly, Gavin would be fine and so would Michael.

“No. Absolutely not.” Gavin finally says his tone adamant, but Michael shakes his head.

“Well now that’s funny Gavin, because you see, while you hold authority over Dan, the both of you were called over to help. The both of you are out of jurisdiction and that means _I_ have authority over _you._ ”

“Even then, I won’t do it Michael. I-I can’t.”

“What do you mean by you can’t? Of course you can.”

“No Michael, I can’t. I really can’t.” Gavin repeats and Michael’s hands begin to hurt with how tightly he’s clenching them.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“I won’t, because no matter how little it was, you put your trust in me, but I can’t trust myself.” Michael has nothing to say to that other than,  

“Bullshit.” He says and Gavin glares.

“Oh no, I assure you, my worry is legitimate.”

“And so was mine, but you fucking took the leap anyway!” Michael screams and Gavin moves back, eyes wide. Michael pretends he doesn’t notice. "How is it that you can go from not knowing a thing about me but assume that I can handle shit like you jumping off the roof of a building, but the instant you _do_ know me you’re too afraid to try anything? Trusting yourself is important, but Jesus fuck if you can’t trust yourself, you can at least trust me!”

“I-I-”

“Stop trying to bullshit me, Gavin. I trust you. _I trust you._ ” Michael repeats to make sure Gavin gets the message.

Another thing Michael has noticed is both he and Gavin are stubborn. They’re both so locked in their virtues and beliefs that it takes a conscientious effort to separate from the situation and look at things through someone else’s perspective.

“O-okay…” Gavin eventually lets out and Michael bares his teeth in something not quite a grin. It’s his idea, but he’s a little scared. And thrilled, but that’s a can of worms he’d rather not open just yet. Maybe some other time when he wasn’t intent on catching a murderer; or still tripping balls about the fact that a man he thought was dead was still alive.

“Get over here then.”

\---

**2:52 PM**

From an outsider’s perspective, with the position the two of them are in, it is easy to jump to the conclusion that something untoward is going on. With an extreme amount of cajoling Michael had managed to get Gavin situated in his lap. They could have tried a different position, but this one provided the most ease of access to Michael’s neck without putting any strain on Gavin who is still a little weak in the knees. As an extra, dubiously necessary, step Michael convinced Gavin to take off his jacket. “You might as well get comfortable.” Michael had reasoned when Gavin had asked. It was a delicate situation and any comfort, no matter how little, was a good thing.

So there they were, Gavin in Michael’s lap and an awkward silence hanging about them. With the way he’s sitting Michael has to look up at Gavin to make eye contact. It’s from this vantage point that he lets his eyes wander freely, admiring the slight bow of the other’s lips, the high cheekbones, the droop of long lashes that frame darkening eyes.

 _‘Christ he’s beautiful.’_ Michael thinks though he dare not say it aloud.

“What’s the hold up?” Michael asks though not unkindly. There is no way Gavin has never been this close to another person, so it can’t be that. And it’s not as if Gavin hasn’t fed from a human before, so what is it? His mind falls quiet when Gavin looks like he’s going to speak.

“What happens after this, Michael?” Gavin asks while his hands play with the collar of Michael’s button up. His gaze stays down cast no matter how hard Michael tries to make eye contact.

“After what?” Without really knowing where to put them, Michael keeps his own hands on Gavin’s hips just above his belt. But the feel of his thighs pressed against his is highly distracting.

“After _this._ Feeding influences both parties. If it were anyone but me, there’s a chance that they could use the vulnerable state you’d be in to take advantage of you. Not only that, the process can be- can be…”

“Can be what?” Unconsciously Michael shifts so the two of them are even closer.

“Intimate.” Gavin says lowly and Michael scoffs.

“What’s a bit of intimacy between friends?” When Gavin doesn’t say anything Michael softens. “There’s no reason to be so uptight, so… frightened.”

“I’m not frightened.” Gavin hurries to point out and Michael smirks. And then his tongue comes out to wet his dry lips.

“Aren’t you? Prove it then. Prove to me that you aren’t afraid to have someone stick their neck out for you.” Michael chooses his words specifically to elicit a response and he delights in how Gavin reacts. His pretty, pretty eyes narrow and his lips purse and Michael is overcome with the absurd want to kiss it away.

“Fine then.” Gavin relents and then he leans in and Michael shudders as Gavin licks a stripe up his neck. His tongue is slightly warm, but his breath is cool enough to make Michael shiver when he breathes out.

“The fuck’re you stalling for, you need to drink don’t you?” Gavin pulls back enough to lock gazes with Michael, making the detective freeze in place. His hands are now lower on Gavin’s waist than they had previously been and his back is being pressed against the couch all while staring up at a man who isn’t a man at the same time.

“You know that you don’t have to do this, Michael. We can figure something out.” Gavin replies and his brow is furrowed with concern, but his blue-green eyes are glazed and ravenous and Michael throws caution out the window and admits to himself that he desperately wants to kiss the worry away. But that’d be crossing a border he doesn’t have the proper documents for.

“We certainly have the capability, but we don’t have the time.”  

“Michael…” The man in question rolls his eyes.

“We’ve already been through this. Just do it, Gavin. For fuck’s sake.” This time when Gavin stares him down, Michael knows he’s won.

“All right.”

Michael can feel his heart rate increase as Gavin leans in once more, slim hands bracing themselves on his shoulders. He lets out a gasp when Gavin presses his lips against his pulse point and his mind blanks when he feels Gavin press an open mouthed kiss to his jugular. His grip tightens on Gavin hips when his hands come up to cradle Michael’s face.

With Gavin straddling his lap, head resting on his shoulder and his mouth pressed to his neck, it’s difficult for Michael to concentrate on thinking about how genuinely afraid Gavin was, _is_. About how he was so focused on the case and trying to salvage what he had with Michael that he forgot to look after himself. The mere concept of someone being afraid to lose him is not uncharted territory for Michael, but it is incredibly humbling for someone like Gavin, someone he hadn’t known for years, to care so much. And his heart is thundering in his chest because thoughts like; 

'You're such an idiot, Gavin,' and 'You fucking forgot to feed. Don't try to bullshit me,' cycle through his mind even as Gavin starts to chuckle, his quiet laughter a slight rumble in Michael’s ears. But Michael can’t find any humour in this situation because he’s already found out what happens to vampires that don't feed.

“Why are you laughing? This isn't funny, asshole.”

“You’re worried.” Gavin points out, strangely happy.

“Of course I’m fucking worried.” Michael snaps back but then Gavin presses another kiss to Michael’s neck.

Gavin is still fully clothed, but his suit jacket is in a pool of dark fabric by Michael's feet, having slipped off the couch as the two of them got settled. And Gavin's hands are cold and searing as one cradles Michael's head, winding fingers into his hair, while the other rests on the small of his back, under his shirt and right against his flushed skin. 

And then Gavin opens his mouth and Michael can't help but wince as teeth bite into him. 

A few moments pass, Michael has Gavin's loosened tie held tightly in one hand, but his grip is slipping. His head falls back against his couch and Gavin, _fucking Gavin_ , moves with him. He can feel the other's cold skin through his clothes, and his heartbeat has grown slow and steady like he's drifting off to sleep. But then Gavin's lips leave his neck, and then Michael can see blood, _his blood_ , smeared across his lips. And _‘fucking hell, what have I gotten into?’_

Gavin’s eyes are dark and blown by lust and Michael doesn't know if he should fight or flee. His heart thumps sluggishly as he tries to collect his thoughts, but he makes his decision when he watches as Gavin's tongue flicks out to lap up the 'left overs.' His gaze lifts to meet Gavin's eyes and he swallows hard before opening his mouth to speak.

 _“Fuck.”_ Is all he manages to say and Gavin laughs. The little shit.

“Are you offering,  _Michael_?” Gavin asks back, practically purring, and _fuck no_ , a voice like that should be illegal. Michael is sure it’s against the law somewhere.

“Maybe.” He says and Gavin throws him a devilish smirk. Michael can’t help a hiss when Gavin shifts in his lap and rubs against his crotch. “You motherfucker.” Michael spits and Gavin titters.

“Silly little boy,” Gavin starts, “I may have my issues, but an Oedipus complex is not one of them.”

“Fuck off.” Michael retorts, but he doesn’t mean it. He’s too busy trying to keep his eyes open as Gavin begins to shift, his hips moving in short deliberate thrusts that sets Michael senses on fire.

“Riddle me this, _Michael._ Do you like playing with fire?” _Jesus._ This is a different side to Gavin, a side Michael never thought he’d get to see. But god, it was something. What that something was, Michael neither had the patience nor the coherency to name it.

He’s about to reply when Gavin shuts him up before he can answer, pulling Michael into a searing kiss where he can taste his blood on Gavin’s tongue when it enters his mouth. He also tastes like some sort of spice and smells of winter winds and autumn rain, and they kiss for what feels like hours. And when Gavin grinds his hips down onto Michael, he bucks up to meet him thrust for thrust.

They clutch at each other like as if they let go, the other will cease to exist. When Gavin nips at his lips Michael becomes highly aware that the both of them are wearing far too many clothes, his hands digging into 100% expensive fabric and chilled flesh. And when Michael throws his head back to gasp for a much needed breath it sends a sharp pain lancing through his neck that reminds him of what he’s done.

 _‘I’ve fed a vampire my blood, and I honestly couldn’t give a shit.’_ Michael thinks dizzily as Gavin presses him into the couch to lap at his neck. His eyes flutter before they close and Gavin, the fucking prick, tugs on the hair at the back of neck while his tongue traces the already healing bite.

“ _God damnit.”_ Michael lets out and Gavin smiles against his skin and hums, sending pleasant vibrations straight to Michael’s brain and, more importantly, his cock.

“You never answered me Michael. Do you? Do you like to play?” When he can, Michael looks Gavin directly in the eyes and scowls fiercely. His hand comes up to grasp Gavin as firmly as his arousal soaked brain allows him to and he pushes the vampire back until Gavin looks him in the eye.

“No because this isn’t a game, asshole. If we do this, if we go any further, I’m in it for the long haul.” By now some of the fog has cleared and Michael is immensely relieved that he’d strung his thoughts together in coherent sentences. It’d fucking embarrassing as all hell if he’d gone all loopy when saying something he was sure was full of meaning.

For a long while Gavin just stares. Soon five whole minutes have passed and while Michael is still breathing deeply and his pulse is still a little fast; the flush that had been on his face has dissipated until it is nothing more than light dots of colour on his cheeks.

“Do you really mean that?” Gavin asks so quietly his voice is like a rush of summer breeze through the trees.

“Of course I fucking mean it. When have you ever known me to half-ass shit?” Michael demands and when Gavin laughs Michael finally understands why his heart stutters. Michael knows he doesn’t love Gavin, not yet, but he could _learn_ to love him. So as thick headed as he is, Michael is willing to buckle down and try.

“Shall we take this elsewhere then?” Gavin asks as he brushes a curl of hair behind Michael’s ear. When he pulls his hand away Michael catches it and places a kiss to his wrist. It’s a cheesy move, but a lot has happened today, and in the days leading up to today, that have made Michael do things he’d previously been unlikely to do.

“Definitely.”

\---

When Michael stands Gavin hurries to wrap his arms around his neck. He buries his face in the man’s shoulder when he starts to walk, carrying him to the bedroom. After shouldering the door open, Michael ambles over to the bed and slowly deposits Gavin onto the sheets.

“Don’t.” He says when Michael walks over to the light switch.

“What?” The room is dark, but light from the summer sun still streams through the gaps in the blinds and the curtains. The room is dark and Gavin wants it to stay that way.

“Keep the lights off. We don’t need to see, do we?”

“Don’t we?” Michael asks a little unsurely, but Gavin shakes his head.

“No. Sometimes it’s better just to _feel_. Come to bed, Michael.” Gavin beckons him over and Michael lingers by the switch just for a moment longer before he gives in. He turns to close the door.

The light stays off.  

\---

**3:06 PM**

Even in the limited light, the sight of Gavin perched by the edge of his bed should not make his heart race; it should not make him stop to take in the entirety of his form, his long limbs and slender hips. His mussed hair and bright eyes that crinkle at the edges when he smiles shouldn’t make Michael want to hide him away so only he can see that smile, but they do. (They do, they do, _they do.)_ It’s absurd to think of how much he simply _feels_ for Gavin, even if he can’t put a name to some of those feelings. Whether the feeling is anger, or happiness, or worry, or affection, one glance at the other man and Michael is _gone_.

It reminds him of how it was with Lindsay. How the two of them could just laze about in the living room, watching TV in companionable silence, or how they would laugh at each other even as they made love. There was no fuss, no need to fill the silence with inane chatter. Or how, when they did talk, they never ran out of things to say, never getting tired of the other’s voice, able to talk on and on about anything. The only reason it ended was because the both of them came to the realization that even if they hadn’t dated, their relationship would be entirely the same. They’d still be comfortable with each other, unafraid to curse and yell because humanity was a complex, but easily pleased species.

What isn’t complex is how the ache to kiss Gavin flares when Gavin reaches for him. Slowly, still a little sluggish from blood loss, Michael makes his way over to Gavin, unbuttoning and shedding his shirt on the way. The hungry look Gavin gives him when his chest is revealed does stupid things to his brain and makes him push Gavin into the mattress when he gets to him. His hands come up to rest on Michael’s arms and the chill of his palms raises goose bumps on his flesh.

“How is it that you’re so pale, Michael?” Gavin asks as he marvels at the contrast of their skin. He takes one of Michael’s hands and laces them together, palm to palm and fingers tangled.

“I dunno. What about you, I thought vamps were supposed to be pasty white.” Gavin giggles at that and Michael shuts him up with a kiss that he puts his entire being into. He presses his body against the man beneath him, slides a knee between his legs, and props himself onto his elbows so they can kiss and kiss and kiss until Michael has to come up for air. Even then it isn’t long before he dives in again, calloused hands coming up to cradle a smooth face. He rests their foreheads together when they break apart, but he never lets go of Gavin’s hand.

“So?”

“I’m part Italian.” Gavin replies matter-of-factly.

“Hmm, so your olive complexion is hereditary?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it.” It seems like a stupid detail to fixate onto, but Michael decides he doesn’t care. He just likes the sound of Gavin’s voice. So he just hums and then kisses Gavin for what feels like the nth time, licking at the seam of his lips and then using his tongue to count Gavin’s teeth. Thirty two, Michael thinks as he sets to ridding Gavin of his shirt. He smiles at him gratefully when he moves to sit up, so Michael makes it that Gavin’s legs are wrapped around his waist and then works at his tie, undoing the knot slowly and slipping the strip of fabric off even slower. Gavin’s eyes never leave his face. Once the tie is gone, Michael tackles the buttons while Gavin looks up at him with eyes hazy with want. He is pleasantly surprised to find that Gavin’s chest is covered in hair. It isn’t unbearably thick, but it’s noticeable and he traces Gavin’s happy trail with a finger and delights in how Gavin shivers. With Gavin’s help Michael strips him of his shirt and tosses it in the general vicinity of his own. He doesn’t care where it lands. They’d bother with them later.

Next Michael unbuckles Gavin’s belt, making quick work of the button and zipper. And when Michael lays him down amongst the pillows, Gavin selflessly lifts his hips so Michael can just pull his pants off in one great tug.

“God damn, Gavin.” Michael announces reverently when he lays eyes, and hands, on Gavin’s mile long legs.

“Yes Michael?” Gavin’s smile is coy and sharp like the blade of a knife, but Michael feels like the king of the world for being the cause.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

“Good lord, has the sun come up?” Gavin jokes.

“You’re the sun.” Michael replies like it’s obvious.

“You’re the- oh, didn’t expect that one coming.” Gavin admits and Michael snorts.

“That’s because you’re an idiot, Gavin.” Michael points out and Gavin’s lips thin. But Michael can see laughter dancing in his eyes.

“Are you gonna fuck me or not?” Gavin asks impatiently, narrowing his eyes and Michael grins wickedly in response.

“So glad you asked.”

\---

Collecting both of Gavin’s wrists in one hand, Michael pins them above his head kisses him deeply. Their tongues slip over and under one another and when they break apart, Gavin nips at his lower lip. Michael then rids Gavin of his last article of clothing and then kisses his way down the other’s chest to his navel and eventually to his inner thighs. The yelp Gavin lets out when he nips at the soft skin makes Michael grin. He sweeps his tongue soothingly over the bite before moving on.

He lets go of Gavin’s wrists and takes his cock in hand, licking the underside of his shaft from base to tip. Gavin doesn’t moan, but he does hiss out a breath which Michael takes as a consolation prize. As Gavin’s hands come down to clutch the sheets, Michael brings his hands to Gavin’s hips, fingers digging into his skin and holding him down as he swirls his tongue around the head, stroking over the slit, before taking as much of him in his mouth in one go.

“God’s sake, Michael!” Gavin shouts, but Michael just hums while Gavin keens and tosses his head back into the pillow.

Gavin is much quieter after that, but Michael relishes every gasp and whimper he draws out of him. His jaw is a little sore from having his mouth open for so long, but it pays off when he hollows in his cheeks and Gavin lets out a choked breath before he comes. Michael pulls away before he can swallow, but not before some of it ends up on his cheek and lips. Rubbing away at what’s on his cheek with the back of his hands and licking off what’s on his lips, he shifts until he’s slightly more comfortable even if he himself hasn’t come yet. Unwittingly, his gaze never strays above Gavin’s abdomen.

“Michael…” Michael looks up at the mention of his name and is instantly caught by Gavin’s gaze. There’s a minute flush to his cheeks and his pupils are still blown, but there’s a contented smile curling his lips.

“Hey, Gavin…” Michael whispers back and Gavin grins.

“You know, I think it’s unfair.” Gavin says with an air of mock sincerity.

“What’s unfair?” Michael asks amused.

“Here I am naked in your bed, but you still remain clothed,” Gavin gestures to his slacks, “Off with them then.” Michael willingly complies. He pushes himself into a sitting position and then gets off the bed. He undoes his belt slowly and Gavin watches him with a predatory gaze, green eyes shining even in the limited light. He shoves his pants off and kicks them, and his boxers, away and then gets back onto the bed. He then makes his way to Gavin on all fours and settles his weight on top of him. Again, Michael notes that Gavin’s skin is cold to the touch, but he barely feels it; his own skin feels like it’s on fire.

“How,” A kiss, “am I” another, “now?” Gavin laughs when Michael breaks away and presses a kiss to his temple.

“Much better.” He practically purrs and Michael ducks down to nip at his neck.

“Now where were we?” Michael asks into Gavin’s skin and Gavin responds by tangling their legs together and flipping them over so it’s Michael on the bottom with Gavin looming over him.

Michael wants to say something, but Gavin shushes him with a look and grinds their hips together and Michael gasps as one of Gavin’s thighs rubs against his erection. He squeezes his eyes shut when Gavin presses open mouthed kisses to his chest, nipping at his collar bones and no doubt leaving bruises that’ll stay for days. Not that he minds. He’s unable to keep in a high pitched whine when Gavin takes a nipple between his teeth and pulls before running his tongue over it. Gavin’s lips are cold, but they burn as he trails kisses down Michael’s stomach to the V of his hips.

It’s a rough task to keep in a shout when Gavin’s talented tongue makes quick work of his cock, licking and sucking until he’s painfully hard. The next few minutes are taken up by Gavin bobbing his head up and down at an agonizing pace, an antithesis to the racing drum beat of his heart. ( _Thump, thump, thump._ ) Michael makes the mistake of looking down to watch just as Gavin looks up and their eyes meet.

“ _Fuck me._ ”Michael groans as Gavin suckles at the head, never breaking eye contact. His tongue traces the vein on the underside of his shaft before his mouth comes off. Michael wants to lament the loss of suction, but Gavin’s words make the complaint die a harsh death in his throat.

“Patience, love. We’re almost there.” Gavin says in a low voice and Michael groans and looks away.  

He lets out a thousand curses when Gavin takes him in his mouth once more. When he hollows his cheeks, bobs his head, and does something positively _wicked_ with his tongue Michael comes hard, back arching and mouth falling open in a wordless scream. And Gavin, _fucking Gavin_ , swallows him down. Once he’s finished licking away what remains on his lips, he crawls on top of Michael and slots their mouths together and they move together completely in sync.

“Should we move on to the main course?” Gavin asks a little later. His voice is lilting to Michael’s foggy mind, but his words get through.

“Fuck yes.” Michael agrees and Gavin smirks before giving his hips a roll.

“Top.”

Before Gavin can do anything, Michael rolls them over then reaches for the drawer of his bedside table. He opens it, then rifles around before finding a condom and a bottle of lube that hasn’t seen much use. He tosses the condom aside, uncaps the lube, and squirts a generous amount onto his hand. Without asking, Gavin props himself up and splays his legs open. Michael shifts until he’s pressed against Gavin’s side and runs his free hand through the other’s hair before kissing him soundly. With his mouth occupied, Michael sets to work, swirling a finger around before pressing it into Gavin.

The next moments are filled with Michael slowly stretching Gavin out until he isn’t so quiet. Each crook of his fingers elicits a gasp and Michael peppers Gavin’s chin, cheeks, and lips with chaste kisses as he works him open. Slowly Michael gets Gavin onto his side, letting him rest his head on his arm. He buries his face in the nape of Gavin’s neck and revels in the coldness of his skin, a balm to his flushed cheeks.

“Michael, please…” Gavin rasps and Michael grins into his shoulder blades.

“ _Michael_. _”_ He mocks but does as Gavin asks. He eases the other onto his back, supressing a sharp smirk at the whimper that reaches his ears when he removes his fingers. After retrieving the condom, he cautiously tears the wrapper open with his teeth, and sucks in a breath as he rolls it onto his cock.

Coating his dick with a generous amount of lube, the bed creaks as he shuffles on his knees back to Gavin. He’s taken by surprise when Gavin reaches for him, wrapping his arms around his neck and bringing him low so he can kiss him. He plants his hands on either side of Gavin’s head as the sounds of their lips meeting eats up the silence. And God, it feels like they’ve been kissing for hours, but Michael has yet to tire of it. He loves the brush of Gavin’s cool lips, the slip of his tongue, and a taste that is wholly and uniquely _him._ Sighing into Gavin’s mouth Michael locks his arms and lines himself up with Gavin’s hole. Slowly, so slow that it burns, he inches into the man beneath him and presses his face into Gavin’s neck. Gavin just clings to him, fingers digging into his skin, but Michael wants to bruise. He wants Gavin to leave his mark all over him and serve as a reminder that they had the opportunity and took it.

Once he’s fully seated he stretches his neck to nibble at the shell of Gavin’s ear, tugging on the lobe, tearing a gasp from behind Gavin’s lips.

“Gavin,” Michael begins, “I’m going to move now, okay?”

\---

Gavin had had his fair share of lovers. When you had virtually forever to do as you pleased, boredom was inevitable. You could be dragged to parties and crawl from bar to bar, but Gavin always found it troubling that he could never stay interested for even the shortest length of time.

It was no trouble, however, to find someone to fuck. When his sire had finally allowed him to roam the city without supervision, fifteen years had gone by and the Great Depression had already reared its ugly head and supplanted the prosperity of the roaring twenties. But there was always a girl or two who wanted to forget their misfortune, and Gavin, charming Gavin, Gavin with a quick smile and a lazy cock of the hip, he’d fuck them. He’d make them gasp and moan out his name, but it was just a fuck. All fluff and no substance, he’d roll out of their beds in the morning and leave nothing but the imprint of his body in the mattress as paltry proof that he’d been there at all. The men he’d string along and bring to bed were just for the thrill of trying something different, something _forbidden_ , but fucking them had quickly lost their charm as well.  

Once, and just the once, he’d used his empathy to pull a girl to him. She’d been a shy young thing; just a year over legal and her anticipation at the idea of shagging an older man had been obvious and real enough without his influence. But nevertheless he’d done it and the ‘shy young thing’ had dragged him to a hostel where he’d fucked her just like he had with the others. But her moans had rung hollow and the touch of her tongue had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Her kisses, most of all, had burnt him the way fire devoured wood and it was after he’d left her, softly snoring and bare beneath the sheets, and returned to the Greenaway estate that he’d vowed never again to use his ability for his own gain. He’d come close many times, but the temptation was tempered by the guilt he recalled and the sickness he felt at disappointing his adoptive father. Dan, when Gavin had told him, had been a great motivator. The lycanthrope was no less crooked than Gavin had been, and arguably still was, but Gavin could never deny that Dan was a better man.

So he shied away from entertainment districts and all the ‘attractions’ they’d offered and he applied himself to honest work. During and after the Second World War, his father had talked of a society that was dedicated to finding supernaturals affected by all the conflict a safe place to board until permanent solutions were found. That society eventually grew into the agency he worked for today, but even then, the mentality to keep away still lingered about him like a cloying odour.

It was different with Michael. Michael with his auburn curls, oak wood eyes, jagged smile, and fiery temper, he was the spark that set their pyre aflame. He was strong, incredibly strong for a human, but at the same time immeasurably gentle. He presses tender kisses to Gavin’s forehead and cards his hands through sweat damp hair even as he snaps his hips forward, fucking into Gavin at a pace he was used to giving, not receiving. Gavin can’t help but lose himself in the quick rhythm Michael sets, clutching onto his biceps and anchoring himself with the way the muscles in Michael’s arms flex and tighten as he moves. Arousal curls low in his gut and spreads delicious warmth out to the rest of his body, making him bite down on his lip and his toes curl. With every thrust, Gavin arches to meet him, breathing every sigh and moan into Michael’s mouth as they kiss wet and deep. After a particularly vicious thrust, Gavin unwinds his arms from around Michael’s neck and braces his hands on tattooed arms. His fingertips dig into pale and inked skin and he tosses his head back in a silent shout when the head of Michael’s cock slams into his prostate.

Michael pounds into Gavin again and again, after which Gavin wraps his legs around Michael’s waist, and his heels dig into the small of Michael’s back. When Gavin feels a tug at the base of his skull as Michael pulls at his hair, he breaks his silence once more, moaning loud enough to be heard over Michael’s panting breaths.

“Fucking hell, Gavin I’m-” Michael begins but then cuts himself off as he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, hitting Gavin’s prostate dead on. Gavin’s back arches sharply forcing Michael in just that bit more and Michael groans into his collarbone as he lets out a breathless gasp.

Michael’s world is turned on its head, however, when Gavin suddenly props himself up. He pushes himself forward into Michael and, using his momentum, pushes Michael down until he’s lying on the mattress ending with Gavin on top and straddling his hips.

“Gavin, what the-” Michael’s question is cut short when Gavin, the little shit, rotates his hips and Michael lets out a gasp.

“Oh, I may have just struck gold with you, my little Michael.” Gavin sing-songs before he places his hands flat on the bed on either side of Michael’s head. He then lifts himself up onto his knees before slowly he sinks himself down onto Michael’s cock and Michael’s teeth dig into his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Gavin distracts him with a peck to the corner of his mouth before he can break skin.

“You little prick.” Michael hisses and Gavin bares his teeth in a victorious grin, looking like the cat that got the canary _and_ the cream. When he licks his lips and hums, Michael scowls. Gavin just chuckles.

“Call me all the names you like, little boy, but by the time we’re done, the only name you’ll be calling is god’s in vain.” Gavin’s voice comes out as a fucking purr and he supplements this statement by leaning down until his face is less than an inch away from Michael’s. For a brief moment Michael believes Gavin thinks to kiss him, but then his brain short circuits as Gavin begins to _move_.

He sets a near relentless pace, fucking himself on Michael’s dick in quick shallow thrusts that leave Michael gulping for air and desperate to reach deeper into the warmth that surrounds him. Soon the sound of Michael’s heavy breathing and the slap of skin on skin rends the air, interspersed with the squeaks and groans of the mattress and bedframe, but Michael is deaf to this noise. All he can focus on are Gavin’s eyes, heavy lidded, fringed with long dark lashes, and pupils so dilated the irises are no more than thin rings of viridian. All he can feel is the arousal coiling tightly in his gut and the light sting as his legs, half numb from the chill of Gavin’s flesh, are jarred by Gavin riding him into the mattress. Whether by luck or mere happenstance, Michael manages to snap his hips up just as Gavin comes down creating just the right angle for Michael’s cock to brush up against his prostate. It all goes downhill from there.

Gavin gasps and his back arches, reducing the proximity between his and Michael’s faces which gives Michael just enough time to push himself up into a sitting position. Not deterred in the slightest by losing the upper hand, Gavin lifts his arms and winds them about Michael’s neck. He presses in close, their chest flush against one another, and murmurs incoherencies into Michael’s ear as he fucks himself open in Michael’s lap. Meanwhile, Michael grabs at Gavin’s hips and buries his face in a cold shoulder.

“ _Michael._ ” Gavin breathes out and Michael responds by crushing their mouths together, swallowing gasps and moans and whimpers. Gavin is close, he can tell, but so is he. They tear away from each other just before Gavin comes, his back bending as he throws his head back, mouth open wide in a stuttered shout. And Michael groans when he feels Gavin clench around him before throwing his weight forward so Gavin is laid out on the bed. He pounds into the man beneath him, losing rhythm the closer and closer he gets to release.

“ _Fucking Christ!”_

\---

**3:36 PM**

It’s been a long, _long_ while since Gavin had felt this sated; this _warm_. He and Michael lay tangled together, his head pillowed on Michael’s chest while he traces the lines of ink on his left arm. The bedroom is quiet, but just outside Gavin can hear the hum of the appliances in the kitchen and the faint rumbling of cars on the road, but nothing is as loud as the slow and steady beating of Michael’s heart. It’s a calming rhythm lulling him deeper and deeper into sleep, but he can feel that Michael is worried about something.

“Everything all right, love?” Gavin asks and even though he’s not looking, he can tell Michael’s heard him.

“Everything’s fine Gavin, as fine as things can be considering our circumstances.” Michael’s words are virtually void of inflection, but Gavin can feel the weight of them.

“True.” A few minutes pass, the proverbial clock ticks and then, “There’s something else on your mind though, isn’t there?” When Michael makes a frustrated noise at that Gavin can’t help a small laugh. “Hit the nail on the head did I?” Gavin asks as he takes Michael’s hand and laces their fingers together. Gavin’s internal clock tells him it’s late into the afternoon, early evening, but he can still feel the warmth that pours in from outside. It mingles with the warmth that radiates from Michael’s body and makes him drowsy, supplementing the steady thump of Michael’s heartbeat. Michael doesn’t move, but Gavin feels Michael’s emotions shift into uncertainty. It’s like standing on a sturdy, stable bridge over a massive gorge. You know you can make it across, but safety is so far away on the other side and you’re caught in the middle as the bridge sways.

“Before this,” Gavin feels more than sees Michael gesture to the both of them, “you asked me what would happen afterwards. Well, it’s after, but I have no fucking idea what to do.” Helplessness colours Michael’s voice and Gavin squeezes Michael’s hand in reassurance. A soft smile curls his lips when Michael squeezes back.

“We could talk.” Gavin suggests once the moment passes, reminiscent of Dan’s suggestion earlier in the day. But of course, this time the words have different meaning.

“Talk. We could do that, yeah. But I-” Michael starts, but then he cuts himself off. Nevertheless, Gavin hums in understanding. His eyes flick up to watch with his eyes how Michael reacts to his words all while trying to ignore warm he is. And Michael is warm, so, _so_ warm that Gavin can’t help but drink in the warmth through his fingertips, getting drunk on Michael’s brandy coloured eyes as he stares Gavin down.

“You have the look of someone who wants something.” Michael scrunches his nose up at that but Gavin brings up one of his hands and presses a kiss to the palm. “What do you want, Michael?” Gavin asks his- his what? His colleague? His partner? Neither do what they have justice, but the word lover stands to suggest too much.

Gavin was a master of emotion, but he’d always second guessed himself. The only times he’d ever felt certain was when he met Dan for the first time and decided that they’d be best mates. The other was when he decided to work for MESA for the first time as a senior agent of the newly formed Supernatural Integration District. His promotion to Vice Director had come later, much later in terms of MESA’s beginnings, but long ago when considering the present. He still felt honoured to have such a high position, but distrust of his own self worried at him like a dog with a bone and Gavin had, Gavin had doubts… Gavin wanted, _desperately_ wanted, to be sure with Michael. But old habits die hard or something like that.  

He’s startled out of his thoughts when Michael lets go of his hand abruptly and runs it through his hair, pulling at the curled locks and making it stick up in places. In response Gavin rolls over so he’s on top of Michael. Their legs are still tangled together, but Gavin folds his arms and rests them on Michael’s chest, resting his chin on top of them. He stares down at the other man as he tries to vocalize his thoughts. All the while Michael’s heart beats loud and echoes enough in Gavin’s that he can pretend he has a heartbeat of his own.

“That’s just it Gavin, I have no fucking clue what I want. I’m a fucking mess and all I’m really sure of is that what I want includes something I never thought would matter so much to me.” Gavin blinks and cocks his head to the side. He licks his lips and smiles internally when Michael’s eyes track the movement of his tongue. _‘Silly little boy…’_

“And what would that ‘something’ be?” Gavin asks without a hint of mocking. Michael was fun to rile up, to mess with, but what Michael needed now was someone who could listen to him. Someone unattached, or at least, unattached enough that personal feelings wouldn’t be considered. It was ironic considering his empathy, but Gavin loathed leaving those he cared for wanting. He feels Michael breathe deeply and feels warm air on his cheek when Michael breathes out.

“You, Gavin. That something is _you._ ”

Gavin has nothing, absolutely nothing, to say to that. His mind is racing with thoughts, but he’s so caught in the reaction that he can’t articulate how he feels. He’s stuck working his mouth open and closed, gaping like a fish, while Michael’s face goes from slightly worried to ‘Jesus fuck did I break him?’

“Gavin?” Michael calls out as he braces his warm, so warm, _too warm_ , hands on Gavin’s shoulders. His palms sear Gavin like brands, but he doesn’t shake them off.

“I- Am I that important to you Michael?” Gavin blurts out and Michael starts. His hands slip off Gavin’s shoulders, but he doesn’t let go and it’s such a little thing, but it comforts Gavin all the same. Actions spoke louder than words, and Michael was a loud person as Gavin had heard and learnt, but the little things spoke volumes. To think Michael first met Gavin with a push, but here he was holding onto him in any way he could.

Minutes have gone by and Michael has still yet to answer Gavin’s question. His eyes are distant, focused but not really focused on a point behind Gavin’s head. It matters little though. Gavin understands that Michael needs to take a moment to think, to consider, so he waits. He waits and gently removes Michael’s hands from his arms, taking one and pressing another kiss to the back of it. The action seems to pull Michael out of his musings.

“Has the prodigal Mogar come back?” Gavin laughs when Michael turns his wide eyes to him. He is incredibly lovely like this; Gavin thinks as he reaches up to sweep russet coloured bangs out of such a sweet face. _‘His jaw and cheekbones look like they’ve been sculpted out of marble, but his lips are all cherub. God, is this how it feels to be sick with love?’_

“Michael, you’re beautiful.” Gavin proclaims without thinking and a flush steals up Michael’s neck and stains his cheeks.  

“Oh my god.”

Gavin wants to say more, but the shrill sound of a cell phone ringing steals his and Michael’s attention away and the moment passes. Without a word from Michael, Gavin rolls himself off of him so he can get up, but he can’t help watch the sway of Michael’s hips as he moves across the room to where he threw his pants so he can retrieve his phone from one of the pockets. He sees Michael pause as he checks the caller ID before sliding across the screen to answer.

“Hello?” A beat. "Geoff?” 


	5. Chapter 5

**3:54 PM**

“Geoff?” Michael asks when he hears nothing but silence from the other end of the call. His gaze absently flits around his room, lingering on Gavin for a moment before lowering to the carpet beneath his feet.

 _“We need you and Gavin at the station as soon as possible.”_ Geoff replies in such a rush that Michael struggles for a brief moment as he tries to process what he’s heard.

“Why, what happened?” A scraping sound grates in Michael’s ears and he imagines Geoff wedging the receiver of his office phone between his shoulder and ear. Michael then hears what sounds like a metal drawer being opened. It clangs shut before Geoff starts speaking again.

 _“Ray called, said he’d put some people on the lookout for our girl and that one of them got a visual.”_ Geoff explains and Michael’s gaze lifts until he’s looking at Gavin again. There’s a curious look on his face and Michael smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way before focusing back on the call.

“Where was she last seen?” He doesn’t see it right when it happens, but something in Gavin’s posture changes. He’s still laid out under the covers, but there is something keen in the slant of his shoulders, and there’s a glint in his eyes. His mind conjures the strange image of a cat swishing its tail in anticipation, and he mentally shakes himself to rid himself of the thought.

 _“Ray’s buddy said she was seen on Seventh Street.”_ Comes Geoff’s voice and Michael’s roaring mind quiets. Seventh Street?

“But that’s-”

_“I know, I know. So how fast can you and Gavin get here?”_

“Twenty minutes tops.” Michael answers immediately.

_“Okay, but call when you’re close?”_

“Ten four, Chief.” Geoff chuckles at that and Michael’s lips twitch. Geoff’s laughter was a special brand that never got old.

 _“Fucking dicks man it is so weird to hear you say that.”_ Michael huffs a laugh.

“Sure is.” Michael agrees. “See you at the station, Geoff.”

_“See you.”_

Once the call ends, Michael’s arm drops like a dead weight. His palm feels clammy around his phone and the mantle of responsibility drapes itself across his shoulders once more. He supresses a shudder as the imaginary fabric scratches against his skin.

“I take it that we’re needed downtown, yeah?” Gavin asks in a gentle voice and Michael nods.

“Yeah, one of Ray’s contacts spotted Lana Forde on Seventh Street and I’m guessing once everyone gets together we’re gonna devise a plan to get her into custody.”

“Hm, we should get ready then.”

“We should do that, yeah…” Michael trails off as he lets himself be swept into the artificial calm Gavin provides. Normally he would have contested it, but exhaustion seeps into his every pore so much that it’s as if he breathes it.

“Better?” Gavin calls out mildly and Michael’s gaze softens and the tension in his shoulders ebbs away.  

“Yeah, thanks.” The smile Gavin gives him is full of tender affection and Michael thinks that even if everything goes to shit, this brief time with Gavin will be enough to look upon this case somewhat fondly.

When Michael gets close enough to the bed Gavin grabs him by the arm and pulls him down into a slow, gentle kiss. It’s just the barest brush of lips and the slightest sweep of tongue, but Michael sighs contentedly into Gavin’s mouth nonetheless. Inside his chest his heart is swollen with the beginnings of what could become the greatest love Michael has known since Lindsay and it flares when they break apart and Gavin stares at him with eyes like the sea, vast and open and uncharted. Michael knows he isn’t in love with Gavin just yet, that they still have things to work out, things to talk over, but Gavin’s been around for long enough to learn a few things, and he’s got tons of time learn a few things more. They’ll work it out.

\---

**4:01 PM**

The drive to the station isn’t pleasant per se, but neither Michael nor Gavin feel the need to fill the silence that hitches a ride with them. When Michael asks, Gavin gives Geoff a call letting him know they’re a block away from the station. It’s through Gavin that Michael also asks Geoff if he is, in fact, intent on getting Forde into custody. When the answer is a resounding ‘yes’ the conversation winds down until they’re saying their goodbyes just as Michael is pulling into the station’s parking lot. And even though it’s a wide open space, the sounds of car doors slamming shut seem to echo across the asphalt.

“After you.” Gavin announces with a grand sweep of his arm as he pulls and holds the front door open. Michael rolls his eyes, but says nothing, and then walks through the doorway, making a beeline for the bullpen. He could see through the glass doors that everyone was clustered around Ryan’s desk. And why not? There was no need to meet in the conference room when the case was so close to being wrapped up.  

“So glad you two could make it.” Geoff comments snidely when he spots them walking, but there’s no real malice in his tone.

“So what’s our plan?” Gavin asks. To Michael’s surprise Gavin doesn’t stray from his side and move closer to Dan like he had in the past. It was such a little thing, but it sent a surge of pleasure through Michael nevertheless.

“Well Ray’s buddy said he spotted Forde on Seventh around five minutes before I made the call to Michael, so there’s a chance she hasn’t gotten far. I was thinking we could head down there and flush her out.”

“We gonna get more people on this, or will it just be us?”

“I think it’d be best to keep to just us, right?” Dan asks musingly. When he picks up that everyone has their eyes on him, he blinks as if in confusion. “Well, I mean, your media liaison said to keep this case on the down low. A bunch of officers and squad cars all concentrated in one area is like to call attention, yeah? There’s also a chance that it’ll run Forde off before we can catch her as well as make Sharpe nervous.”

“Nervous?” This comes from Ryan who had, until now, had been a spectator to the conversation.  

“Nervous enough to do something drastic like kill in front of witnesses, I bet.” Gavin remarks and the mood doesn’t just drop, it plummets.

“We should head out as quickly as possible then.” Ryan says and he gets a series of nods as a response.

\---

**4:16 PM**

Gavin can feel the presence of the pistol he has strapped to his thigh as if it were a separate entity. He and Dan stand waiting in the lobby, biding their time while the others arm up. A restless sort of feeling creeps under his skin and burrows into his bones and he recognizes it as it makes itself at home. It’s the same feeling he felt decades ago when he would watch Dan arm up for battle the few times they were in the same camp together. In his mind’s eye Gavin can see Dan stripping down his gun, making sure it’s working order before reassembling it just as efficiently. He can hear the clicks and scrapes of metal and they are just as loud as the clicks of keyboard keys, the droning whir of electric desk fans, and Dan’s measured breathing.

Things are different now, Gavin has to remind himself. They’re not at war, there’s no high chance of dying, but the restlessness tears at Gavin all the same. And it laughs at him as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. He’s always hated waiting.

“What’s got you so jittery, B? I would have thought sleeping with Michael would have relaxed you some.” Dan says seemingly out of nowhere, startling Gavin from his thoughts.

“What?” Gavin blurts out inelegantly and the grin Dan flashes him is full of mischief. Minging prick.

“Any marks he’d have left on you are most likely healed already. But even if you cleaned up, I’d still be able to recognize the stink of sex anywhere. You fucked him, didn’t you? Left some marks behind?” Dan asks slyly and Gavin’s eyes go wide. Dan has the decency to hold in his laughter.

“No! I-”

“Huh, so he fucked you then. Interesting.” Dan says as if here were commenting on the weather and Gavin gets the urge to hit something. He wants to tell his friend to shut the fuck up, but all he can say is,

“Dan!”

“Yes Gavin?” He asks grinning and the urge to smack that smug grin off his face grows.

“You- you, you mingy little prick! I-”

“Alright gentlemen, we ready to head out?” Comes Geoff’s voice and Gavin whips around just in time to see him walk out of the bullpen, appearance unchanged save for the Glock on his hip. The holster looks worn, but well taken care of, and Gavin suspects the gun within it is just as old and cared for. Ryan strides in after him and Gavin spies a similar firearm secured within a well maintained shoulder holster. Of course, Gavin’s stare lingers on Michael who walks into the lobby last. The way he looks; shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows and revealing his tattoos, tie knotted loosely around his neck, Gavin is taken back to the moment Michael found him on the roof before his jump. The only difference is the gun at his hip, but it’s not as if Gavin hasn’t seen Michael armed before. He just hopes that they won’t have to fire any shots. He also can’t help but note how Michael stares at him, even though Geoff and Ryan are looking in his direction as well.

“Ready and raring to go, sir.” Dan replies diverting everyone’s attention. Everyone’s except Michael’s whose brown eyes glint curiously. _‘My agitation must show on my face.’_ Gavin thinks even as he nods in accordance to Dan’s statement.

“Great. We’ll be splitting up into two teams. Ryan, Dan with me,” Geoff instructs pointing to himself, “and Michael you’ll partner up with Gavin. That way there’ll be an even distribution of supernatural agents. Are there any objections?” When Geoff’s eyes seem to linger on him, Gavin shakes his head. No one speaks up.

“Perfect.”

As they leave the station the two teams split off, Dan and Ryan trailing after Geoff as he heads to his car while Michael and Gavin walk off to Michael’s. They’ve been on the road for only a few minutes when Michael breaks the silence.

“So what were you and Dan talking about that had you so flustered?” Gavin, who had been keeping his gaze trained outside his window, turns to look at Michael in shock, but his eyes are met with the side of Michael’s face.

“Why would you need to know?” Gavin asks as he focuses his gaze forward. When he reaches out with his empathy, he finds that Michael is just curious.

“I’m allowed to worry about people I care for, aren’t I?” Michael asks as he steers the car into a right turn.

“Of course you are, but-” Gavin cuts himself off when the enormity of what Michael had said catches up with him.

“But what?” Michael prompts when Gavin doesn’t resume speaking. The inflection of his voice is gentle, patient, and it feels Gavin with an absurd amount of affection for the man next to him.

“But nothing I suppose.” Gavin answers softly and Michael chuckles, his little smile forever painted on the inside of Gavin’s eyelids.

“Glad we had this talk then.” Michael admits as he pulls up onto the street. Geoff pulls in moments later and parks behind Michael. They all get out of their respective vehicles around the same time and meet at the mouth of the alley Forde had been found in two days ago.

“All right,” Geoff begins with a loud clap of his hands, “we’re going to split up here. Ryan, Dan and I’ll go west while Michael and Gavin go east. If you spot her, don’t approach her right away. Call first, understood?”

“Yes sir.” Both Ryan and Michael say while Gavin and Dan nod accordingly.

“Let’s get this over with then.” Geoff sighs before he starts down the street. Gavin and Michael watch them walk and walk until they disappear down Congress.

“It shouldn’t be so difficult to find her, I think.” Gavin admits as they start east. Michael hums in agreement.

“Yeah, all we have to do is look for a dark haired girl in a lab coat.”

“Lab coat?” Michael laughs at his disbelief.

“Yep. When Joel got in he found his place trashed and his coat missing. I’m surprised it was just Ray’s contact that spotted her and not some random citizen.”

“Yes, that’s rather fortunate indeed.” Michael just nods along.

They duck into alleyways and slip through back lanes all while avoiding the prying eyes of civilians, but they find no hide nor hair of who they’re looking for. They’ve been at it for almost an hour when Michael’s phone rings. Michael stops in his tracks to answer it.

\---

**5:13 PM**

“Hello?” Out of the corner of his eye Michael can see Gavin watching him. He doesn’t ask who it is, just simply watches, no doubt gauging for Michael’s reaction to the conversation.

 _“Hey Michael, I’ve got some great news.”_ Comes Ryan’s voice and Michael feels his heart leap at his words.

“What is it?” He asks a little quickly and he hears Ryan breathe in deeply.

 _“We found her, well Dan did, but she’s ours and without a single shot fired too. Geoff wanted me to call and say that he and Dan went ahead to the station to put her into holding. I’ll be hitching a ride back with you, if that’s all right?”_ Ryan regales and Michael doesn’t have to imagine the excitement in his voice.

“You found her?” Michael asks instead of answering Ryan’s question. They’d suffered a great hit when Wake was found dead, but then Ray told them about Sharpe and now this? Michael was over the moon.

 _“We found her.”_ Ryan repeats knowingly. No doubt he felt the same elation, the same relief. And tying up at least one frayed end of this mess of a case must have felt amazing. He had more right to be excited too having been put on the case since the body of Moira Lowe had been found a month ago.

They talk a little more and then Ryan ends the call telling Michael he’d meet them back where they’d parked and Michael agrees before hanging up.

“We’re heading back to the station I take it?” Gavin asks and Michael practically beams at him.

“We are, in fact, going back to the station my dear Agent Greenaway.” The enthusiasm in his voice must not be catching because the smile Gavin gives him is entertained and exasperated all at once.

“Well then Detective Jones, we should hasten back, yes?” Gavin’s smile remains, but his tone is all no nonsense and his eyes are lacking mirth. _We’re still in the midst of an investigation. Curb your enthusiasm;_ his green eyes seem to say. Michael swallows, properly chastised even though Gavin has said nothing to that effect.

“We should definitely do that. Uh,” Michael takes pause. “Ryan will be joining us on the ride back since Geoff and Dan went on ahead with Forde.”

“I understand. Back to the car?” Gavin asks with an eyebrow raised.

“Uh yes, back to the car. After you.” Michael says with a graceless sweep of his arm and he is incredibly grateful when Gavin makes no mention of it.

When they get to the car Ryan is there waiting for them. He gives Michael a mellow smile that is very telling of his own stifled gladness that Lana Forde is off the streets. As Michael gets into the driver’s seat, he slides into the front passenger seat while Gavin gets into the back. Once everyone is strapped in Michael starts the car, pulls away from the curb and makes the drive back to the station.

\---

**5:25 PM**

The station is near deserted when Michael, Ryan, and Gavin get back. Michael spies a few stragglers in the bullpen, but the three of them have no business there. Instead the trio makes their way to the holding section of the station, where the interrogation rooms and cells are sequestered in their own hall not unlike the presentation and conference rooms on the opposite side of the building. When they get there they find Dan leaning against the wall outside an interrogation room.

“Nice to see you lot.” Dan greets and Michael hears Gavin huff a laugh.

“Lovely to see you too, B.”

“Is Geoff in there with Forde?” Michael asks as he jerks his head in direction of the room.

“Yeah, but you haven’t missed much. Geoff’s been asking her all sorts of questions, but he’s gotten nothing out of her.” Dan replies a slight frown playing about his lips.

“Well fuck.” Michael hisses.

“Well now, we haven’t completely cocked things up just yet, my dear boy.” Gavin says, but his voice sounds distant and Michael does a double take when he finds the vampire no longer at his side but paces away and in front of the viewing window that looks into the interrogation room. His gaze is serious as he watches the proceedings inside, but when he turns to face Michael, the expression on his face is neutral. Not even his blue-green gaze gives any indication to his thoughts. Michael doesn’t even try to decipher his body language. His head is held high, his back is straight, but his hip is slightly cocked as he rests his weight on his right foot, and his shoulders are slanted almost lazily. When Gavin licks his lips, Michael watches his pink tongue poke out and sweep over the thin upper lip. ‘ _I’ve seen this before_ ,’ Michael thinks. He’s seen it in feral dogs, in the big cats at the zoo - the word predatory leaps into his mind.

“And how do you suppose we salvage this?” Michael asks. He doesn’t have to emphasize what ‘this’ is. He knows that Gavin knows, and he understands that a plan is working the agent’s brain. All he needs is someone to humour him.

“Let me talk to the girl. She clearly has the mental capacity to realize she’s changed, but she still needs someone to talk to, someone to facilitate her through that change. Someone to tell her that she is going to be okay and that justice will be served. Let me talk to her and I can pave the way for you.”

For a moment Michael just stares at Gavin. His posture hasn’t changed, but his eyes are alight with determination. For all Michael knew, Gavin could be carved out of stone.

“Ryan?” The man in question looks over at the call of his name.

“Yes Michael?”

“You’re the primary on this case. What’s your call?” The silence that follows Michael’s question is a heavy one, and it seems to stretch for hours, but in reality only lasts a few seconds.

“I say we let him talk to her. Otherwise we might not get anything and Sharpe will be able to walk about downtown picking girls off the street.” Michael nods even though the die has been cast.

“Dan, get Geoff outta there. Tell him Gavin’s coming in.”

\---

**5:38 PM**

Gavin isn’t nervous, isn’t unsure or apprehensive. This is his element despite the fact that it didn’t used to be. Even after he’d been turned, the fifteen years of training hadn’t covered social skills. He’d had to learn those on his own, and even now, over eighty years later, he still found himself lacking. There was something about integration that made him forget his shortcomings though. The satisfaction of reassuring people, informing them, educating them, making them feel like all was not lost was an incredible feeling. It was not, however, the rush that motivated him to enter the interrogation room to talk with Lana Forde. There was a death toll and no one really knew how high. The, still, unidentified remains were a testament to that.

Geoff is good natured about being replaced as interrogator. Gavin knew the man understood his strengths had limitations, and he’d even looked relieved as he passed Gavin on the way to the door.

“I’ll be outside with the others.” Geoff had said, but Gavin acted as if he hadn’t heard. His eyes were fixed to the woman, the newborn, and soon to be fledgling whose eyes trailed after Geoff as he left. He could see her nostrils flare as she took in the scent.

“Hello Miss Forde, my name is Gavin Greenaway and I am an agent with the Ministry of Empyrean and Supernatural Affairs. I trust you have an idea of what that means?”  There is no reply. Time to switch to a different tactic then.

“You know, you’re surprisingly apt at supressing your thirst.” Gavin remarks almost indifferently. Again Forde says nothing, she just watches him with dark, dark eyes as he makes his way over to the table, skirting around it before he sits down. He reclines in his seat as much as possible and stares back at her.

“It just strikes me as odd,” A blink, “usually unattended newborns are unable to control their bloodlust and go after the closest source of blood possible. You must be a particularly strong willed individual to have managed that.” Nothing, and then… Forde smiles and Gavin can tell through the wall that it sets the four in the hall on edge.

“Not strong willed, just not stupid. Besides I had other things on my mind than the fact that I was thirsty as hell.” Her voice is low, husky with disuse and the fact that her throat had been savaged before she’d turned. If he looks hard enough Gavin can see the remains of a scar. A scar that would stay even after Forde had become a fully-fledged vampire. But that came later. Gavin needed to focus on the now.

“Other things such as…?” Gavin trails off and Forde narrows her eyes at him.

“I don’t know, maybe tracking down the motherfucker that did this to me? I want to, I want to-” There is a low groan as Forde grips the edges of the table angrily.

“You want to what? Talk with him?” Forde gives a violent shake of the head and Gavin hums knowingly. “I see. You want to make him pay.” It’s not a question, but Forde replies anyway.

“ _Yesssss…”_ She hisses and Gavin waits until her anger abates.

“I could help you with that then. I could help you make him pay for what he did.” The wide eyed stare she gives him is something Gavin has seen countless times, but the corner of his lips lift nonetheless.

“What’s the catch?” Forde asks and Gavin does smile then.

“Oh, such a clever girl you are. Well now, all we need is for you to tell us anything and everything you know about the man that pulled you into this mess.”

“Is that it?” She asks suspiciously. Instead of answering right away, Gavin reaches out to her with his empathy, gently probing. When nothing but slight irritation and curiosity leap out at him Gavin slowly withdraws.

“No, that’s not it I’m afraid.” He tells her honestly and the scowl she gives reminds Gavin of Michael. Leaning forward and planting his elbows on the table, he clasps his hands together and hides his smile behind his fingers.

“What else could you possibly need? I can’t exactly give you anything other than information.” Her voice is a little loud, but Gavin is worried. He knows exactly what to say to get her to calm, and if that turns out to be wrong, he has his power over emotions as loathe as he is to use them to his advantage.

“You needn’t worry. All I’m asking for is detailed information. For instance, could you tell me what happened the night you were turned?”

“I-I-” She stutters and Gavin’s face draws in sympathy.

“It’s all right, Miss Forde. Take your time, I understand that this is not a pleasant memory to revisit, but it is necessary. Just think, and when you’re ready, describe that night, okay?” When she gives him a wide eyed stare, Gavin doesn’t move. He more or less promised her that he would wait. And he would. It’d taken a while, and a bunch of training, but he would wait. But still…

_‘She looks like a bloody deer in headlights, the poor thing.’_

“Okay.” She breathes the word out and the tension seems to melt off of her. “I guess I could give a bit of context before I, uh, delve into things. I’m not much of a party person, but I absolutely love hanging out with my friends no matter where we went. Going to the club downtown was a spur of the moment thing; none of us ever really went to clubs. We’d been window shopping the hours before we decided to go and check it out. We figured that we owed it to ourselves to try something new, and even if we had a shit time, at least we had a shit time together, y’know?” Gavin indulges her with a grin.

“I know exactly what you mean.” He says and that spurs her on. She takes a second to clear her throat, an unnecessary thing now that she’d be turned, but old habits die hard.

“Okay, so we go to the club and it’s not half bad. The music is good, company’s great… But then there was this guy.” Gavin just raises a brow, urging her with his eyes for her to continue.

“I’m going to admit that he was attractive and that’s what got my attention, but I wasn’t really interested so…” She trails off.

“You turned him down.” Gavin finishes for her. She nods.

“Yes. And so the rest of the night goes on until we leave some time after one, closer to two o’clock.”

“Were you alone when you were attacked?” Gavin asks when she falls silent.

“Y-yeah. I lived not too far from the club so I decided to walk home.” She takes a deep breath in. “I hadn’t gotten far when I realized someone was following me. I walked a couple blocks more before I turned around to confront my tail, but no one was there. So I kept walking until-” Forde cuts off and even without reaching out with his empathy, Gavin can tell that she hates reliving this. He sends some waves of reassurance to her even while the guilt sets in. As her stiff posture relaxes Gavin reminds himself that using his ability like this is not only for her sake, but for the sake of the other victims. He says this to himself, in his mind, as a mantra.

“…until you were accosted in the alley.” Gavin says eventually and Forde nods. And then her head lowers until all Gavin can see of her eyes are her dark lashes, long and curling.

An analogue clock ticks somewhere in the room, counting the numerous seconds of silence that unfold. When Gavin checks, Forde’s emotions are all over the place; a muddle of confusion, anger, apprehension, and a strange sort of calm grasp at the tendrils of empathy that Gavin sends out and it baffles him to see a newborn able to keep all of that under control. A part of him is absolutely fascinated by her restraint while another part of him sees her as an asset. It had to be a learned thing not unlike the natural empathy he’d worked at in order to suck less as a person. _‘Or it could be connected to her Change. I developed my ability far quicker than I learnt how to empathize with others. Perhaps her weakness has become her strength.’_

“It’s weird.” Forde whispers suddenly, drawing Gavin out of his thoughts.

“What’s weird?” Gavin asks just as softly. She looks up at him and pins him with a stare full of self-depreciation.

“I was nervous when he, when my attacker first approached me at the club, but at the same time I was happy?” Her eyes bore into his and she sounds like she’s holding back tears. “He was a good looking guy and some part of me was over the moon that he came over to talk to me, but at the same time something about him put me off. Like there was something freaky about him that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. That’s why I turned him down. But when I was walking home I was cornered on a street and pulled into an alley. I tried to push him off, but he grabbed me and before I knew it I was choking on my own blood. The last thing I remember from that night is the feeling of teeth in my neck and then nothing.” 

“That’s a common thing when turning humans. The body can only handle so much before one goes unconscious.” She makes a face at that but Gavin doesn’t smile.

“Well the next thing I know I wake up in a metal box. So I fight my way out and take the lab coat to cover up. Can’t exactly go hunting for your supposed killer in the nude, right?” A bitter grin tears its way across her face before she buries her face in her hands and her body heaves as she is wracked with sobs. For the last time, Gavin sends her waves of calm, tides of reassurance, trying to ease her away from the memory. There was one more thing he needed to ask, but Gavin needed her to be coherent to answer.

“Miss Forde… _Lana_ , _”_ Gavin tries delicately and she peeks up at him through her fingers.

“Yes?” She lets out hoarsely and Gavin tries not to wince.

“We’re almost done here. I just need you to tell me one more thing.”

“And what would that be?”

“Do you know the name of the man that hurt you?” She nods. “Could you tell me it?” Forde gives another nod and then takes in an unnecessary breath. She lets it out, and with it, the tension leaves her body.

“It’d be kinda hard not to know him considering how popular he is.” She says with a newfound bravado. “His name is Alan Sharpe and I want to make him pay for what he did to me.”

\---

“Christ almighty.” Geoff swears as Forde finishes speaking. He’d been watching the interrogation with rapt attention since Gavin had walked in and his face had been nearly pressed to the glass, but he turns when he hears a laugh from behind him. When he catches the curve of Dan’s lips he throws the agent a questioning look.

“Oi, I’m in agreement with you. Our girl here isn’t just thirsty for blood. She wants revenge, and by her account, she’s well earned it. But she’s a newborn and they tend to be very temperamental at that stage.”

“What are you saying?” Ryan asks with a tinge of desperation colouring his voice and Dan moves to face him.

“I’m saying that we need to step carefully. Gavin’s got us what we need under the pretense that Forde can have a whack at Sharpe once we take him down. But it’s a gamble because, technically, regulation states that she _can’t_. By promising her that she can mete out her vengeance, Gavin is putting his head on the proverbial chopping block.”

“It’s made all the worse by the fact that he’s MESA’s Vice Director, isn’t it?” Michael asks and Dan’s reply is a grave nod.  

“Fucking hell, each step we take forwards is another two steps back.” Geoff groans, but the sound of a door opening draws his attention. He looks back in the direction of the interrogation room just as Gavin is closing the door behind him. His shoulders are slightly stooped and his face is a little pale and Michael resolves to pull him off somewhere so he can feed again.

“Bloody hell you guys. I could feel your frustration seeping through the wall. What the hell is going on?” Gavin asks leaning heavily on the wall. His eyes rove around the group, searching for someone to give him an answer.

“We were just discussing you sticking your neck out for Forde, that’s what.” Michael replies mockingly casual and Gavin frowns at him.

“Pardon?” Gavin asks and Michael breathes heavily out his nose.

“You just promised her payback. Everyone here agrees that she deserves it, and then some, but you just can’t promise something like that, Gavin!” The glare Michael receives in response is positively chilling.

“And why not, Michael? Why not ease her mind even in the slightest way? My empathy can only do so much, you know.” Michael bites the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming.

“Because we still need to keep this case off the radar and we have no way of controlling Forde should she go out looking for Sharpe on her own.” Ryan interjects and instantly Gavin looks cowed, bowing his head until his gaze meets the floor.

“Gavin.” Geoff calls and the agent looks up. “I know you meant well, but with all things considered, you need to be more cognizant of what you say. What if we try and fail to give Forde a chance at Sharpe? Dan said newborns are temperamental. Would you be able to handle her if she gets out of control?” The question seems to light a fire in Gavin because the change from passivity to attentiveness is staggering.

“Of course! Managing newborns is part of my job.” Gavin states vehemently, obviously affronted and Michael is torn between agreeing with him and screaming at him.

“Prove it then. If Forde gets out of hand, take care of it. Got that?” Geoff demands and Gavin’s face schools itself into something dangerous, something that makes _Michael’s_ hair stand on end.

“Absolutely.”

\---

**5:51 PM**

Having left Dan to keep watch of Forde, Geoff, Ryan, Gavin, and Michael headed over to the conference room to talk of recent developments. With Forde’s statement and subsequent confirmation they had enough to convict Sharpe, enough to put him away for a long time. But that was thinking too simplistically. If Sharpe had been human, the involvement of Gavin and Dan wouldn’t even be a thing, let alone MESA lending a hand in the investigation considering Geoff’s mistrust of the Dallas branch. And even if Sharpe was convicted, whose arrest would it be? Gavin and Dan were working out of jurisdiction, but Sharpe wasn’t human and would most likely suffer punishment under supernatural law.

“Something troubling you, Michael?” Someone asks and the detective looks up to find Ryan eyeing him over the top of his laptop screen. He’d taken it out in order to take note of all their information so he could make the report when everything was said and done and Michael didn’t envy him.

“I guess. I can’t really count it as a problem though.” The smile Ryan gives Michael throws him for a loop.

“I dunno. Anything can be a problem if you complain about it enough.” Says Ryan and Michael lets out a surprised bark of laughter at that.

“Oh? How do you figure?” Ryan shrugs.

“Customer service is a task I would not wish on even my enemies.” He replies enigmatically, which just makes Michael laugh even more.

“What the fuck is so funny over there?” Comes Geoff’s voice and Michael looks over to find him standing in front of the white board. Alone.  

“Hey, where’s Gavin?” Michael asks instead of replying and Geoff scowls.

“He went to make a call to his director since Dan had guard duty.”

“Oh.” Geoff scoffs at that.

“You can mope about it later. Right now we have to set a course of action. Ryan, do you have any ideas?”

“Well, it was Ray’s contact that spotted Forde. Maybe he can give us some info on Sharpe, maybe get his whereabouts so we can nab him.” Michael watches as Geoff nods along to Ryan’s proposal.

“Michael, what about you?”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that plan, so I’m game. We can make the call once Gavin gets back.”

“Okay. Excellent.” Geoff claps his hands and rubs his palms together. “We’re almost done with this, I can feel it.”

A few more minutes elapse before Gavin returns to the conference room. As he watches him sidle up to Geoff, Michael is curious as to how the call went because there’s no indication of it on Gavin’s face. And his posture is relaxed and his face is neutral, giving nothing away.

“Boss man up to date?” Michael asks before he has any chance of thinking better of it. He almost feels sorry for the confused look Gavin tosses him, but it’s already up in the air.

“What? Oh, yes, he has all the details. Why?” Unable to maintain eye contact Michael tears his gaze away. It’s then he realizes he’s halfway out of his chair, leaning in Gavin’s direction.

“N-nothing, just curious.” Michael replies awkwardly and he hears someone, most likely Geoff, snicker.

“All right then.” Gavin says slowly still baffled, but Michael just wants this moment to be over.

“So Gavin…” Ryan begins and Gavin looks to him. Michael thanks him mentally before arranging himself more comfortably in his seat.

“Yes?”

“We were thinking of calling Ray and checking if he has any information on Sharpe and his whereabouts. What do you think?”

“I don’t see any problem with it. In fact, it might give us an advantage. Would you like me to call him?” Instead of answering right away, Ryan looks to Geoff.

“What’s your call Chief?” The man in question brings a hand to his chin, fingers playing over his beard.

“Do it, and have him on speaker again.”

“Understood.” Gavin replies with a brisk nod.

Right after he punches in the number, Gavin puts the call on speaker and sets the phone on the conference table. The sound of the ringer reverberates throughout the room like the chimes of a death bell. The high trills filter through Michael’s ears and echo in his mind like the low chimes of a gong. His jaw hurts with how hard he clenches his teeth, and for too long a moment he thinks Ray won’t pick up, but the fourth ring cuts off and Ray’s surprisingly low voice comes on the line.

 _“Gavin?”_ Ray greets inquisitively and Michael sees Gavin’s lips twitch before he schools his face into an expression more suited to the situation.

“Hello X-Ray. I’m sorry to say this, but we have need of you and your little birds again.” Gavin replies with an odd lilt to his voice. There’s a laugh, no doubt at the nickname (a question and story for later), but the laughter doesn’t last long.

 _“Oh yeah? What’s up?”_ Before answering Gavin plants his hands on the table on either side of the phone and leans forward, legs moving back as he braces his weight on his arms. Again Michael notices the pallor of Gavin’s face and worry bubbles up inside of him. He tries to settle it down as Gavin continues on, a flick of his gaze in Michael’s direction the only indication that he’s aware of the worry which makes Michael want to thank and curse Gavin for because on one hand, he knows, and on the other he _knows_. There was no way to keep feelings to yourself with Gavin around no matter how hard he tried not to use his empathy without consent.

“Well you were so helpful with rounding up Forde, but I was wondering if you had any clues as to where Sharpe and his entourage are flitting about.” Before silence can slither in, Ray hums thoughtfully.

_“I can do that. But I’m gonna need a little bit to ask around. Give me twenty minutes max and I’ll call you back.”_

“Will do, Ray. Just hurry.” Says Geoff and Michael hears Ray chuckle.

 _“I’m on speaker again, aren’t I?”_ Ray asks, but he doesn’t sound surprised.

“You are. It’s much quicker than relaying the conversation to the others via word of mouth, I think. We are pressed for time after all.” There’s a sigh from Ray’s end.

_“Yeah. Anyway, will do Chief Ramsey. Talk to you in a bit. Oh hey, wait. Michael?”_

“Yeah Ray?” Michael asks, not expecting Ray to try to talk to him.

 _“Once this is all said and done and you have your lawbreaker taken care of, your ass is mine in a game of Call of Duty.”_ The request startles a laugh out of Michael, and he answers with laughter colouring his words.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, BrownMan.” Ray snorts and it sounds awful over the call.

_“I’m gonna hold that to you Mogar. All right then, talk to you in a bit. For real this time.”_

“Goodbye, Ray.” Gavin laughs.

_“Bye.”_

When Gavin hangs up Michael feels some sort of weight lift off his chest. Though he had learnt about this side of Ray just earlier today, it didn’t get to him as much anymore. He wasn’t quite at peace with it, but he was getting there.

Taking a look around the room, Michael first sees Ryan working away at his laptop and ends on Gavin and Geoff who look to be in the midst of a heated discussion. Their lips move too quickly for Michael to catch what they’re saying, like he could read lips anyway, but Gavin must say something to set Geoff off because their feverish whispers grow louder until,

“Why the fuck would you need to talk to her again, Gavin? We already have what we need!” Geoff exclaims and Gavin’s responding glare makes Michael flinch.

“I deal in integration Geoff. Lana Forde needs a case worker.” Geoff scoffs at that.

“Last I checked you were in the middle of a case.” He points out, but Gavin looks unmoved.

“That’s precisely why I want to talk with her. Since I am unavailable and out of jurisdiction, I was going to tell her to seek aid from the Dallas Branch because despite your outdated grudge against them, they _do_ have agents who can work, agents who can help her.” Despite Gavin’s severe tone, Geoff looks unimpressed.

“Really now? You shouldn’t have any trouble giving me an example then.” Geoff tries stubbornly and Michael can see how Gavin (barely) holds in his exasperation.  

“Barbara Dunkelman.” Gavin states firmly and Geoff’s stubborn expression melts away, exchanged for a look of confusion.

“Who?” Gavin sighs.

“She works in integration and I know her through correspondences between the Dallas and London branches.”

“She any good?”

“Good? She’s more than good at her job, Geoff. She’s really good, excellent even.” Something changes in Geoff then.

“Yeah?” Geoff asks in a soft voice. He sounds like he’s caving.

“Yeah.” Gavin says with a nod. His lips quirk into something not quite a smile and he gingerly places a hand on Geoff’s arm. “It’s time to move on. They may have lost footing with you on Griffon’s case, but do you really want to deprive this girl of a chance? Do you?” The question is asked gently, but Geoff looks stricken at the thought.

“No I- No.” He answers immediately and Gavin’s expression changes. He looks fond or proud; Michael can’t tell.

“Then let me talk with her. We’d just be standing around waiting for Ray to call back anyway. Might as well use that time wisely, right?” He cocks his head slightly to the side and Michael sees Geoff’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows before nodding.

“Go. But be quick about it.” Gavin says nothing, but Michael catches a quick smile before the agent leaves the conference room. He leaves his phone on the table.

“How are you with that report Ryan?” Geoff asks a few minutes later. There’s the clicking of laptop keys and then,

“I’m nearly done. We just need to wrap up the case and I can finish it for good.” Geoff sighs and his shoulders bunch as he rolls them. When he tilts his head Michael grimaces when he hears the joint pop.

“I am so fucking tired. God damn.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Geoff.” Says Ryan and the twist to Geoff’s lips is one part “fucking hell” and three parts “I am so done.” Ryan just smirks and then returns his focus to whatever’s on his laptop screen. Geoff’s nose scrunches when he frowns.

“Hey Michael, how much time does Ray have?” Looking to the clock he finds that Ray has eight of his twenty minutes remaining. He tells Geoff this and the man clicks his tongue in response.

“How good is he at working in a certain time frame?” He asks and Michael shrugs.

“Better than most, but he’s friends with me so…” When Michael trails off Geoff scoffs.

“Thanks man, extremely helpful.” He gripes, but Michael is unapologetic.

“Hey, you asked.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Geoff asks in a really fed up voice and Michael has the grace not to say anything to that.

\---

**6:04 PM**

Upon seeing him, Dan flashes Gavin a knowing look and lets him into the interrogation room without so much as an exchange of words. Having lived so long together, the both of them are at the point that they can communicate their thoughts through body language and looks supplemented by Gavin’s empathy.

Forde eyes him warily when he enters the room, her body trembling minutely as she tries to supress her thirst. It’s from experience that Gavin knows that she must be at the breaking point now. He knows that her throat must be burning and that the primal part of her mind that had been awakened by her new found vampirism screams at her to tear out of the room and find the nearest source of blood so she can suck it dry. Again he is fascinated and impressed by her restraint, her intelligence, and her ability to keep cool and alert. And if all goes well in the nest few minutes Gavin will have secured a possible recruit for the Dallas branch. His motives are both altruistic and shrewd, but what else could one do when opportunity knocked, but let it in? Doing this meant they would owe the London branch a favour, perhaps even two if they considered catching Sharpe a service instead of an encroachment in their jurisdiction.

“Come to ask me more question Agent Greenaway?” Forde asks and Gavin’s face takes on a sheepish look.

“I’m afraid so, Miss Forde. You’ll be glad to hear, I hope, that they have nothing to do with Alan Sharpe.” Still trembling she leans towards him and he supresses a triumphant grin.

“Lay them on me then.” Gavin smiles at her brazen attitude. 

“Tell me Miss Forde, do you have anywhere you can go once the dust has settled?” Gavin asks to start and Forde looks taken aback.

“Wait, what?”

“Do you have a place to stay once this case is over?” Gavin reiterates and she shakes her head no.

“What if I told you I could secure a place for you?”

“You’d do that?” Gavin smiles at her hopeful tone.

“I would, it is my job after all.” He tells her and he tries not to laugh when all she does is blink in surprise.

“What _is_ your job exactly?” Before answering Gavin folds his hands together on the table between the two of them and braces his weight on his elbows.

“The department I work for is called the Supernatural Integration District, at least that’s what it’s called in England.”

“So you work in England?” Gavin nods.

“The reason I’m here is because I was called over for assistance on this case, but yes, my current residence and employment is in London. My agency does, however, have a branch here in Texas. It’s all the way in Dallas, but they’re responsible for supernatural cases that occur in Texas and in neighbouring states.”

“Okay, but how does that have anything to do with me?” She asks a little impatiently and Gavin huffs a laugh.

“Well Miss Forde, I was wondering if you’d like to go with them. Let them take you under their wing and help you manage your thirst and maybe even develop any abilities you might have.”

“I don’t know…” Forde trails off unsurely, but Gavin doesn’t push.

“I understand. They would be able to answer most if not all of your questions. And you wouldn’t be alone.” That last point seems to stick with her.

“Can I get back to you? Sleep on it?” Gavin smiles at her reassuringly.

“Certainly. Take your time.” He looks to the clock. “Hm, I’m afraid I you’ll have to excuse me Miss Forde I have some business to attend to.” He gets up from the table and is almost to the door when Forde calls out to him.

“Wait!” Gavin looks at her over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Lana.” He turns to face her completely.

“Pardon?” She blinks in surprise and he feels the wave of her embarrassment wash over him.

“You don’t have to call me Miss Forde. You can call me Lana,” She pauses, “If you want.” She finishes with a shrug.

“Well then, Lana. Shall I speak with you later?” Gavin asks with a tilt of his head and the look she gives him has Gavin imagining her with flushed cheeks.

“S-sure.” He smiles.

“Goodbye, Lana.”

“Bye.”

\---

**6:10 PM**

Gavin gets back to the conference room just before Ray calls. The sound of his phone ringing startles everyone and Gavin near leaps across the room to answer it. The cloud of anticipation that had been hanging over Michael since Gavin had left engulfs him so steadfastly that he sees Gavin’s lips move as he greets Ray rather than hear his words. It’s Ray’s voice come over speaker that brings Michael back to reality.

 _“Everyone gather ‘round, Papa BrownMan has the goods.”_ This gets a nervous chuckle from Ryan and a weak grin from Geoff.

“Go ahead Ray.” Says Gavin and Michael heard Ray sigh.

_“Okay, so word on the street is that Sharpe’s having a little get together at the very same club some of your girls went missing from.”_

“That’s pretty bold of him.” Ryan comments, his tone communicating exactly how feels about Sharpe’s “boldness.”

“Considering how highly he thinks of himself, he’s probably doing this to provoke us.” Gavin says with certainty and Michael hears Ryan make a noise of agreement.

“Exactly. He craves attention. And to get that attention he had to do something outrageous.”

 _“And few things are more outrageous than murder.”_ Ray says. No one contests this statement.

“Hey Ray, is there an invite list for this shindig, or is anyone allowed to show up?” Geoff asks and the sound of rustling paper reaches Michael’s ears.

_“Officially, Sharpe invited a limited amount of people, but my sources say he’s open to anyone just dropping in.”_

“Aw, that’s generous of him.” Michael remarks snidely, drawing a snort from Ray and Geoff.

 _“Yeah, just a little bit of Southern hospitality_.” Ray jokes. Someone clears their throat and Michael lifts his gaze from the phone and sets it on Gavin.

“I heard it’s very rude to turn down such an offer. What’s say we take him up on it, eh lads?”

“Oh definitely. I haven’t been to the club in a long time.” Says Geoff.

“Well that settles it.” Michael grins. “Ray, you in?”

 _“Nah, but have a drink for me once it’s done, hm?”_ Michael salutes to the phone.

“Gotcha. Talk to you later?” Michael hears Ray laugh and he imagines his friend on his end of the call, phone pressed to his ear and eyes shut in laughter. It’s a positive thought he’ll need going into this operation.

_“Yeah.”_

“Cheers Ray.” Gavin says, Ray murmuring a faint “bye” in response before he hangs up, the semi light mood leaving with him.

“So what’s the game plan, Chief?” Michael asks a little later. Ray had texted him that Sharpe’s party didn’t start until eight, so they still had over an hour to prepare.

Gavin puts forth the idea of calling the Dallas branch and having them send someone to take Lana to a safe house for precaution. This elicits some grumbling from Geoff, but he gives his approval and so Gavin makes the call. Afterwards he leaves the room again to collect Dan from the interrogation wing. Several minutes later Gavin returns with Dan in tow and now the five of them are seated around the table; all waiting for Geoff’s word.

“I think it’d be better to hear Ryan’s thoughts on this. As primary on the case this’ll be his arrest.” When Michael looks over to his fellow detective, though his body language communicates that he’s cool, his eyes tell Michael that he’s startled by Geoff’s words. ‘ _It’s like he forgot he was supposed to be in charge of this thing. Then again, when Gavin and Dan came over they took a lot of initiative.’_

“Well I, uh…” He trails off, but then clears his throat. “Considering how well splitting into teams went when we looking for Forde, I’m thinking it’d be best to do so when we go after Sharpe. The teams should be the same as before; Dan, Geoff, and I while Michael splits off with Gavin. That way we can cover more ground. I’m just debating if we should use radio, wires, or phones to keep in contact with one another.” He falls silent and adopts a ponderous expression.

“A combination of communications would be ideal.” Dan says seemingly without preamble and everyone orients themselves to look at him. “What? Having us gear up with a primary link to everyone else and then having a back-up mode of contact could keep us out of a fix.”

“What would you suggest then?” Ryan asks, but it sounds like he’s already on board with Dan’s idea.

“I’d go with a cellphone and a wire. Handheld radios are too conspicuous and even if Sharpe didn’t notice, other club goers might. And we’re still trying to keep this case on the down low, right?”

“We are.” Geoff confirms and Dan takes on a look that Michael can’t really identify.

“I say we go with Dan’s suggestion.” Michael says when the silence becomes too much for him.

They’d had too much of those, weighted silences where everyone knew what they wanted, but had no fucking clue how to get their point across. He knew that if he wanted a future with Gavin, whatever the fuck that entailed, he’d had to deal with more of those silences, but he figures he can get this one out of the way before it eats up the rest of the time that have. They still had over an hour, but that time was dwindling and they couldn’t afford to waste it. Thankfully Ryan speaks up before Michael thinks to say anything more.

“That’ll be it, then. Two teams with each member carrying a phone while also being outfitted with a wire. Are there any objections?” No one says a word. “Okay then.”

Not a minute later they’re leaving the conference room and heading off to Tech. for the wires and other necessary equipment. Once each member of the team is fitted with a wire Geoff directs everyone to arm up in a way where their weapons are concealed. Gavin ends up having to leave his suit jacket unbuttoned in order to hide his pistol which he stores in a borrowed hip holder. Dan, a little less professionally dressed, borrows a jacket from the lockers that fits him well in the shoulders, but is baggy enough to conceal his firearm.  

“Everyone all set?” Geoff asks when they meet up in the lobby. A series of nods goes around and Geoff’s lips quirk into a semblance of a satisfied smile. “All right then, before we go… Ryan?”

“Yeah Geoff?” Ryan asks while in the middle of adjusting his holster.

“Could you tell Joel to be on standby? Our objective is obviously to keep everyone alive, but…” A solemn look takes over Ryan’s face as he nods knowingly.

“I got you, Geoff, I’ll go. It’ll be back in a bit guys.” He says with a slight wave and then he’s gone, headed for the lab.

\---

**6:26 PM**

Ryan finds Joel at his desk in his office. When he looks he sees that the pathologist has a folder open in front of him. In it is a picture of a girl with dark brown hair, and a sweet smile.

“Is that her?” He asks and Joel looks up.

“Yeah. Her name’s Tara Lee and she would have turned twenty four on the twentieth of June.” Ryan squeezes his eyes shut at the information.

“Cause of death?” He asks and, with his eyes still closed, he misses the sympathetic frown Joel gives him.

“There was nothing for me to check if she died of exsanguination, but,” he pauses to gather up a sheaf of papers, “from what I gathered from reports, I’m gonna have to say she died just like the others did.” Joel explains and Ryan’s heart leaps in his chest.

“ _God_.” He rasps and his eyes fall open to find Joel staring at him with dark eyes full of understanding.

“I know.” Joel says and Ryan leans over to read the missing persons report that had been filed by her family a little less than a year ago. He remembers being with Jack at a press conference about her disappearance, recalls seeing people that had a resemblance to her standing off to the side with tears in their eyes or streaming down their cheeks. Recalling all of that settles something heavy in his chest and it manifests as a physical ache.

“We’re going to take him down.” Ryan lets out resolutely and Joel tilts his head as if he’s curious. He’s not worked with Joel as long as others have, but he knows how Joel works, how he thinks, and acts and he can see the fury dancing in his brown eyes. Tara Lee had been missing for months, the search for her going on until it went cold. Ryan knew her family had kept the search up after the official case had been closed, and he’d prayed that they would find her while working on other, fresher cases. Everyone had wanted her to be found and now she had been.

“Oh yeah?” Joel asks with an eyebrow raise and Ryan nods as he says,

“Yeah.” Joel frowns.

“Geoff wants me on standby, doesn’t he?” He asks and Ryan tries to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Yeah.” Ryan says again, not really able to say anything else. He hears Joel sigh and sees broad shoulders rise and fall with the heavy breath.

“Okay, okay. But if anyone has to end up on my table, it’s going to be him and not another innocent, you got that?” Joel demands and it’s Ryan’s turn to sigh.  

“We’ll try, Joel. We’ll try.”

\---

**6:35 PM**

“Where’s Geoff fucked off to?” Michael asks once he returns to the lobby after having relieved himself. He turns his head to look around as he comes to a stop in front of Gavin. It seemed the chief of police had disappeared from lobby after directing Ryan to talk with Joel and hadn’t been seen since.

“He said something about calling Griffon. He wanted to tell her not expect him home tonight. I told him he didn’t have to, that Griffon understood seeing as she’s bloody brilliant and all, but he waved me off and went to make the call anyway. I imagine he’s still in his office.” Michael hums in acknowledgment.

“What about Dan?” The other half of the duo ‘BnB,’ as Michael taken to calling them mentally, was nowhere to be seen either.

“He’s gone off to see if Lana has made up her mind yet about going to the Dallas branch so they can help her with her transition. I told him that she might still need time, but he still went.” Gavin says with a single shoulder shrug. Michael huffs a laugh at that and then moves to lean against the wall beside the agent.

“You do a lot of that.” Michael remarks and Gavin raises a brow at him.

“A lot of what?”

“A lot of telling people not to do something they were gonna do anyway.” The look Gavin gives him is so inexplicably fond and full of mirth that Michael tries to focus on something else lest his heart thump right out of his chest in response.

“Does that mean it’s they who have the problem, or is it me?” Gavin asks with an impish smirk. The smile Michael gives him in return is just as devilish, if not more so.

“Depends on who you ask.” Michael says unhelpfully as he shrugs, but the amusement never leaves Gavin’s face.

“Well now, I’m asking _you,_ aren’t I?” Gavin asks with a matter of fact tone to his voice before he moves to stand in front of Michael. He follows Gavin’s movements with his eyes, head slowly turning as his gaze follows the scant number of steps Gavin takes to encroach on his personal space. He steps so close that Michael’s ache to touch him, to gather him in his arms and never let go, flares stronger than ever. Gavin, the prick, beats him to it. He places his chilled hands on Michael’s body just where his ribs are and applies the slightest bit of pressure, his fingertips not quite digging, but enough that Michael can feel the cold seep from Gavin’s fingers into his (in comparison) feverish skin. He brings their faces so close together that Michael could count his eyelashes, so close that he can see the blue-green and burst of orange that make up Gavin’s eyes. Old eyes in a young face.

“God you’re beautiful.” Michael says out loud before he can think about it. When Gavin doesn’t say anything, his eyes go wide as he realizes what he’s said and his mouth works open and closed. But all that comes out are clipped and cut off sounds, and so he clamps his mouth shut and bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from saying anything more. Yet Gavin _still_ says nothing. Instead he smiles, slow and gentle and kind and Michael feels his heart rate pick up as Gavin leans in, closes the distance, and presses cool lips to his. It is not a wholly chaste kiss, there is the sweep of tongue and breathy sighs from the both of them when they pull apart, but it is full of love and understanding, and it is fully communicative of Gavin’s silent message. ‘ _I am here and you can say what you please.’_

“Gavin?” Michael breathes out a little cautiously, but Gavin still has his hands on him, is still close enough that Michael can feel the soothing chill of Gavin’s flesh through his clothing.

“What we have is touch and go, but I believe we can make it work. The thing is, we still have yet to decide what we’re going to do after the case. After Dan and I have to-”

“Go back to England.” Michael states, cutting Gavin off, but Gavin just nods.

“Precisely. Promises are all well and good, but they are intangible unless they are supplemented with action. We’ve talked and talked, but what is talking and making plans without executing them?”

“What do we do then?” Michael asks and if his voice wavers Gavin makes no note of it.

“Well, do you want me to stay here in Austin or should I go?” His hands move from Michael’s back to cradle his face and he leans into Gavin’s touch. It grounds him, keeps him in the moment even if he thinks of the future.

“I-” Michael cuts himself off. What does he say? He wants Gavin, would very much like it if Gavin were to stay in the States, but he _can’t._ If Gavin were just some integration agent he could stay in the States on the pretense of transferring over to the Dallas branch, but he wasn’t so he couldn’t. He was MESA’s second in command. He held a lot of power and authority, and he had _responsibility_. He couldn’t stay. He just couldn’t.

Michael opens his mouth to give Gavin his reply, but he’s interrupted by a voice.

“Hey guys!” Both he and Gavin move to see who’s spoken, but he mourns the loss of Gavin’s cool hands on his cheeks.

“You ready to go?” Geoff asks as he nears the two of them, no doubt taking in their proximity. As Geoff’s sleepy eyes flit between the two of them, Michael tries to slow his drumming heart.

“I’m ready,” He says, and then, “Michael?” Gavin asks and Michael blinks owlishly before nodding.  

“Y-yeah, ready to go, Chief.” Michael agrees and Geoff gives him a look before turning away. Michael follows his gaze and sees both Ryan and Dan enter the lobby, one after the other.

“Everything squared away on your ends?” Geoff lobbies the question to the both of them and Dan nods while Ryan says,

“I gave Joel the run down and he said that if anyone were to end up his table it’d have to be Sharpe.” Michael can’t see, but gets the feeling that Geoff is frowning at that. When Geoff speaks a moment later, he can hear the frown in his tone.

“We can’t make any promises, Ryan. You told him that, right?” Geoff asks and Ryan gives a rapid nod.

“I did, but just because Joel is good at his work doesn’t mean a line can’t be drawn. I told him were going to try, but that nothing was guaranteed and then that was that.”

From how Ryan doesn’t break his gaze away, Michael can only assume that he and Geoff are having somewhat of a staring match while Dan slips past Ryan and makes his way over to Gavin. Now, Michael’s worked long enough to know that the both of them are stubborn bastards in their own right. They seem to stare for so much longer than just a few seconds, but lo and behold, seconds later Geoff is turning his head away and a look very similar to that of triumph, thought tempered by sobriety, takes over his face.

“Well then, if that’s everything, let’s head down to the club shall we?”

Before they can leave however, Michael calls out.

“Hey wait, what about that person from the Dallas branch? They’re on their way here, shouldn’t we wait?” Michael sees Geoff frown.

“Gavin, did you get their ETA?”

“They were arranging a flight right after I told them the situation, so I suspect their agent is still in the air. I’d say we have around twenty minutes until they get here.”

“Flight?” This comes from Ryan and Gavin turns to him.

“Most major branches have at least one private plane to fly agents if need be. Considering the urgency I impressed upon this case, they made a wise decision to fly their agent over.”

“Twenty minutes you said?” Geoff asks pointedly, drawing Gavin’s attention back to him. The agent nods.

“Twenty minutes.”

“Fine.”

\---

It actually takes less time for the agent to arrive at the station, but by the time she does, no one is paying attention to the time constraints. They’re just glad she makes it at all.

“Hello? I’m Barbara Dunkelman from MESA’s Dallas branch. I’ve come to escort a Lana Forde to one of our safe houses?” The way her voice goes up at the end suggests she’s a little uncertain. In the corner of his eye Michael sees Ryan make a move, but Gavin gets there before he does.

“What’s the matter love, why so unsure?” Gavin asks of her and when she looks to him, for a moment, there is silence. Nothing happens until,

“Gavin?” Dunkelman says in surprise and then Michael turns wide eyes upon Gavin when he moves across the lobby to gather her in a tight hug.

“Hey Barbs, long time no see, hm?” Gavin asks after they pull apart. When Dunkelman smacks him on the arm, Michael tries not to wince because even though he knows it won’t really hurt Gavin, it sounded like it did.

“You bet your ass it’s been a while. The last time I saw you was during that call where I told you I made it into the DSI.” Michael hears Gavin laugh.

“Speaking of, how have they been treating you there?” Gavin asks and Michael can detect a fond note in his voice.

“Well they hate my puns, but otherwise there’s nothing to complain about. What about you, why are you here?”

“Well I-”

“He was called here to help on a serial murder case.” Michael interrupts and the light mood sours.

“Oh.” Gavin turns away from Dunkelman to give him a look that sets Michael’s anger simmering. He’s angry not because Gavin is oblivious, though. It was because Gavin knew how he was feeling when Michael didn’t want him to.

“Agent Dunkelman?” Ryan calls out and the agent turns to face him. Michael tears his gaze away from Gavin then and silently thanks Ryan for the distraction.

“Yes?”

“I can take you to Miss Forde if you like.” Her lips part in surprise.

“Oh, um, thank you.” The two of them leave together in silence, but as soon as they’re no longer in sight, Geoff rounds on Gavin.

“What the fuck was that?” To his credit Gavin doesn’t flinch at Geoff’s raised voice. It was interesting, however, to see Gavin so resolute after Michael had seen him at his most vulnerable only a few hours ago. _‘He bounces back pretty fast, must have learnt a lot in his century of existence,’_ Michael thinks a little bitterly as Gavin goes on the defense.

“That was me greeting a friend. I had no idea she would be the one they would send over, so her arrival came across as a little shock.” The tones of his voice, at first, comes across as him simply stating a fact, but there’s an underlying _‘this shouldn’t bother you so much’_ which Michael knows Geoff can hear because,

“How the fuck do you know her?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot.” Gavin says icily and Michael watches as Geoff, who had taken steps towards Gavin, takes a step back. “I _told_ you, I know her through correspondences between our branches. Communication between Head Quarters and outlying branches is a regulated thing, but she was once of the few agents I ever really got along with.”

“You told me you wanted her to be Forde’s case worker.” Gavin sighs.

“No, you asked for an example of an agent from the Dallas branch that could be relied upon and I gave you her name. The fact that she was the one to be sent over to help is a good thing, Geoff.”

“I-”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Dallas may have fucked up, but they are not completely irredeemable.”

“Wow, thanks for that Gavin.” Dunkelman’s voice filters over to them from a little ways away and Michael moves to see her, Ryan, and Lana Forde walking towards them.

“Cheers Barbara. You’ll be all right taking her?” Gavin asks and Michael marvels at how quickly his tone has changed.

“I believe so. I talked a bit with Miss Forde, explained a bit about what might happen and she said she was up for it so…”

“Miss Forde?” The girl stares at him and Gavin huffs a laugh. “Right, and what about you, Lana?”

“I thought about what you said and I- I think I’m going to take the offer.” Michael sees an ecstatic grin curve Gavin’s lips at that and it hits Michael, again, that Gavin is genuinely passionate about his work.  

“That’s something I’m glad to hear, I’ll admit. Rest assured you’re in great hands. Take care.”

Still off to the side, Michael watches as Gavin and Dunkelman interact with each other. Their closeness doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would, but then again he’s had Gavin’s tongue down his throat while the man only imparts companionable touches upon her. Gavin’s relationship with Dan had caused him more frustration than this. And maybe it’s because he’s broadcasting his feelings, but when Gavin looks in his direction with a fondness in his eyes and a gentle smile on his lips, Michael’s heartbeat picks up a bit. It’s such a sweet precursor to all hell breaking loose, but Michael will find that he’d been too distracted by Dunkelman’s horrible screeching to really care about semantics.

Forde had gone ahead after Dunkelman had told her that two other agents had accompanied her on her trip and were waiting in a car out front. She hadn’t been out the door for very long when the screaming began. One minute there had been peaceful conversation and the next Gavin was lurching forward to wrap Dunkelman in his arms as her screams seemed to poor from her very being. It went on for a while, Michael clapping his hands over his ears when it seemed to get louder, but Gavin just held on taking the brunt of the onslaught as he held onto her.

When it was over and the metaphorical dust had settled, she was shaking in Gavin’s arms while he rubbed circles into her back. She was crouched on the floor and Gavin knelt with her, but it was quiet, the screams becoming echoes in memory.

“What the hell?” Michael hears someone whisper.

“Hey,” Someone else begins, “is she okay?”

Dunkelman says something, but her reply is muffled by Gavin’s suit jacket.

“What?” Michael hears himself asking.

“-die.”

“What?” Geoff repeats and it’s Gavin who speaks up.  

“Barbara is a banshee.” Is all he says and Geoff makes a frustrated noise.

“Okay, but-”

“Oh god.”

“What, Ryan? What is it?” Geoff asks and Michael moves so he can see his fellow detective and is met with a look of terror on his face.

“If she’s a banshee her screams are prophetic in the sense that-”

“Just get on with it, Haywood!” Geoff exclaims and Michael sees Ryan release a shuddering breath.

“Her screams mean that someone is going to die.”

\---

**7:04 PM**

After confirming that Barbara would be all right, they watch her as she gets into her car and wait until she’s out of the lot. When all that’s left of her transport is the distant growl of an engine, they take a pair of unmarked cars to the club instead of cruisers or their own cars, intent on keeping a low profile from entry to exit. They drive into the lot together and pull into spots on opposite ends of the lot to maintain their inconspicuousness. When they walk into the club they split off individually to talk to the staff and inform them of their operation. Once they finish their rounds they disperse into the crowds, rejoining in their predetermined teams.

And then they wait.

\---

**7:15 PM**

The last time Gavin had checked his phone it had been fourteen minutes passed seven. When he checks again, it’s a quarter after. Time was passing, but not quickly enough. Sharpe’s party started in less than an hour, but Gavin feels like he’ll vibrate out of his skin before the asshole has a chance to arrive. Even with the music as loud as it is, Gavin can’t hear a single pump of bass or kick of drums, too busy watching and waiting for Sharpe for them to register. Any other time he might have bobbed his head along to the rhythm or even danced along, but right now he’s too keyed up. It makes it difficult to maintain a low profile, but he knows he isn’t the only one that feels like this. He tries to ignore how he feels glad about that, but the fact of the matter is that even though Michael maintains some distance from him he can feel the detective’s agitation, however distantly. It was like holding onto frayed rope. You could feel it in your hands, but seemed so intangible when compared to rope that had yet to unravel. The throngs of people around him, regular club goers, dancers, civilians, they were such woven rope and served as a reminder to Gavin of what to do.

But it was still arduous work. Blending into the crowd was somewhat of a specialty of his even with Michael’s agitation pinging like a mark on radar. But then there was Geoff, Ryan, and Dan walking about as well and from the times they’d passed by Gavin thus far, he’d felt their restlessness as well, fluttering at the back of his mind like the wings of bird in a too small cage. It cycled and fed into his worry, his sense that even though they’d come prepared, he felt that something was going to go wrong. It might be something that would cause a minor inconvenience or it could be something worse and Gavin hated not knowing. He could still hear Barbara’s screams, could hear Ryan trying to explain, and he could still recall the moment he felt Geoff’s frustration bleed into fear.

 _“Her screams are prophetic…”_ Ryan’s voice echoed in his mind. Now, he wasn’t wrong. Banshee screams served as an indication of what would come, but they weren’t specific like visions were. And with tensions running high, and everyone’s restlessness as near palpable, Gavin was worried, desperately worried about what would happen. Worried for Geoff, worried for Ryan, worried for Dan, himself, and especially Michael it was-

“Gavin.” He snaps his head around to find Michael closer to him than he had been moments ago. It confused Gavin as to how he’d missed Michael’s approach, but then again he was probably too distracted to sense his emotions. Speaking of which, when he reached out with his empathy, he sensed that Michael was still worried, but he could tell that it was for a different reason.

“Yes Michael?” Gavin asks instead of commenting on it. Doing so would just cause confusion that Gavin would rather avoid.

“Are you- Fuck it, come with me.” When Michael takes a hold of him and starts dragging him along to what Gavin soon finds out is a side exit.

“What are you- Michael- Michael!” Gavin exclaims as Michael hauls him through the door, all but tossing him into the alley it opens up into.

“Gavin!” Michael mocks as the door shuts behind them.

“Why did you take me out here?” Gavin asks but Michael doesn’t answer right away. Instead he just stares at Gavin, eyes searching for something. Gavin suspects Michael finds what he’s looking for when,

“You’re fucking antsy as shit, Gavin. Every time I saw you when we passed each other in the crowd you were either looking at your phone or checking the main door. Jesus, you’re so fucking restless _I_ can feel it. It’s like you were unwittingly broadcasting your worry and I’m getting the brunt of it because I have to stay close. I-” Gavin launches into an apology before Michael can get another word out.

“I’m sorry, Michael I just- This is a really important operation and I’m trying to be vigilant; and then there’s the matter of Barbara screaming before we left for the club and I-” The feel of warm skin against his own causes Gavin to break off. He looks down to see Michael has taken a forceful hold of his wrist, fingers wrapping around almost entirely. It grounds him, stops him from rambling, and gets him to look Michael in the eyes.

“You’re a fucking moron.” Michael states with such vehemence that it startles a laugh out of Gavin. Michael doesn’t laugh along, but he does grin at Gavin, a single dimple appearing in his cheek and showing teeth.

“Thanks for that.” Gavin says and though laughter coats his voice he really does mean it. He feels calmer now, more settled. He’s not entirely off his guard, but he isn’t about to lose it just yet.

“No problem, asshole. I got your back you know, like-”

“Sh!” Gavin cuts him off, just barely refraining from clapping a hand over Michael’s mouth. Luckily the other man doesn’t question his sudden change in demeanour. When Gavin puts up a finger as a cue to get him to listen, he does.

For half a moment there is nothing but the breeze blowing trash in the alley and then,

“C’mon, stick with me after the party and we’ll have some real fun.” A decidedly male voice says. Could it be?

“I dunno, I mean… I’ve heard a lot about your ‘after parties’ and while they sound awesome I just-”

“It’d be lack lustre without you. C’mon, stay, at least for a couple of hours?” The voice was dripping with flattery and charm, but Gavin knew what the speaker was doing. It was definitely Sharpe, it had to be.

“I-”

\---

**7:29 PM**

“Michael.” Gavin hisses.

“Yeah, I got it.” And Michael does “got it.” He understands what Gavin wants him to do without him having to say it and so he digs his phone out of his pocket and calls Geoff. It gets picked up halfway through the second ring.

 _“Go for Geoff.”_ Michael waits a beat, tries to steel himself and then decides to just tell his chief straight.

“We’ve got audio confirmation on Sharpe. He’s chatting up a girl; trying to get her stay for an ‘after party.’” He doesn’t put any emphasis on the words ‘after party,’ but he knows Geoff will watch what he means.

 _“Fuck. Okay, hold on. (It’s fucking loud as dicks out here we gotta-)”_ There’s a bit of noise on Geoff’s end of the call, but when he returns his voice echoes. _“All right Michael, share with the class.”_ Class?

 _“Michael?”_ Oh.

“We’ve got Sharpe outside the club in an alley. No visual, but him and the girl he’s with can be heard loud and clear so I’m guessing they’re relatively close.”

“Michael.” Michael hears Gavin call his name, but he’s too busy waiting for what Geoff has to say. The thing is, Geoff’s quiet on his end too.

“Geoff?”

 _“How’s their conversation going?”_ Someone else’s voice echoes over the call. Ryan, Michael thinks briefly before answering.

“He’s trying to keep her close, asking her to stay after the party.”

 _“Has she said anything yet?”_ An accented voice asks. Dan.

“No, but judging by her tone, she’s leaning towards telling the bastard ‘no.’”

_“Stay on them, okay Michael? Stay on them and wait for us.”_

“But what if-”

 _“No ‘buts.’ That’s an order, Detective Jones.”_ Geoff’s tone brooks no disagreement so Michael has no choice but to say,

“Yes sir, understood. I’ll relay this to Agent Greenaway.”

 _“Good.”_ And then Geoff hangs up. As Michael is slipping his phone back into his pocket he looks over at Gavin just as Gavin is looking over at him. His other worldly eyes are narrowed into jade slits and Michael can see the way he clenches his teeth. _‘He’s as beautiful as he is deadly. Like a snake.’_   Michael thinks before he speaks.

“What?” He asks in a harsh whisper, but Gavin just stares all the more. He stares until,

“She’s scared.” Gavin states in a voice just as quiet.

“What?” Michael asks again, fully aware of the fact that he’s just repeated himself.

“The girl Sharpe has with him. She’s scared out of her mind, but she’s got no idea how to get him to leave her alone. We need to go to her.” Michael is about to agree with Gavin’s suggestion that’s more of a command, but then he remembers what Geoff ordered him to do just moments ago.

“We can’t.” Michael says in the same hushed tones and Gavin’s tight expression loosens into shock.

“Are you barmy?” Gavin asks, voice straying from the cultivated hush from before, “What do you mean we can’t? She’s-” His voice returns to a whisper, but his urgency remains.

“It’s an order from Geoff. He told us to wait until he got here.”

“But Michael, we might not have that much time. I can already feel her fear growing worse!”  Gavin’s voice is _still_ a whisper, but it’s toeing the line.

“I know, but we can’t just rush into things or we’ll-”

“No!” Fuck. Michael’s resolve begins to wane.

“Let go of me! Fuck off you creep, just let me-” The girl’s voice cuts of into a high scream that gets muffled and Michael’s resolve to follow Geoff’s orders fully deserts him when he hears Sharpe’s response.

“Don’t struggle; it’ll only make things worse.” If not his words, it’s his tone pisses Michael right off, all polite and syrupy sweet as if he were making a suggestion. Bullshit. Michael knows it for what it is; a warning.

And then there’s the tell-tale sound of that warned against struggle and Michael loses it. With Geoff’s order now the furthest thing from his mind, he leaves Gavin behind and runs over to the couple, stopping in front of them just long enough to confirm that it is indeed Sharpe before,

“Austin PD, hands where I can see them!” He shouts as he whips out his gun and Sharpe relinquishes the hold he has on the girl.

For a long moment Sharpe just stares at him as if he can’t quite believe what’s happening is happening and so Michael sneaks a peek at the girl even as he keeps his Glock trained on Sharpe. She looks just as terrified as Gavin said she was. When he looks back at Sharpe there is another, shorter, moment before he turns and runs.

“Aw fuck no!”

“Michael!” He hears Gavin shout and he pivots so he can see the agent running over. His arms come down, but his gun still held tightly in both hands. “I thought Geoff made the order to wait.” Gavin says and Michael frowns. He looks away from him and back at the girl.

“Tell Geoff the situation,” Michael begins, “I’m going after the fucker!” Michael shouts and then he’s off.

“Wait- _Michael!_ ”

\---

“ _Michael!_ ” Gavin screams after the detective, but no matter how far his voice carries, Michael doesn’t respond. “Dammit!” Gavin hisses before he remembers his surrounds, before his empathy reminds him that there is a terrified civilian right in front of him.

“This is going to sound awful, but are you all right Miss…” Gavin asks gently, trailing off so the girl can fill in the blanks at her leisure.

“Penny, um, Penelope Singer. And I’ve been better.” Gavin gives her a gentle smile. ‘ _Shaking like a leaf, yet like a proud oak you will not bow.’_

“That’s understandable. Would you be averse to coming with me? I have colleagues who-”

“Gavin?” Someone calls for him and Gavin looks over his shoulder to Ryan approaching, Geoff, and Dan right on his heels.

“Where’s Michael?” Geoff asks in a dangerous tone and Gavin clicks his tongue.

“Sharpe ran off and he went after him.” Gavin replies and Geoff immediately turns away and shakes his head.

“I told him to wait.” Gavin scoffs.

“So I’ve heard, but if he had, Miss Singer here might not have made it. Ah, pardon me, Miss.” Gavin directs his last words to her, but she seems to be holding up pretty well, all things considered.

“I-it’s okay. I knew from the moment he approached me that something was off about him, but I never thought-”

“Never thought it would come to this?” Dan asks, finishing her sentence. She nods.

“I need to go.” Gavin says and Geoff looks at him.

“Go?”

“Michael went after him on his own; we were put in teams.” Gavin says by way of explanation and Geoff stares and stares and stares, sleepy blue eyes alert and boring into Gavin’s.

“Fine, but you pull _any_ stupid stunts and I swear to god I’ll-”

“Geoffrey.”

“What?”

“I know. I can’t make any real promises, but I promise to try. All right?” Gavin asks with a tint of desperation to his words. Geoff frowns, but his silence is short lived.

“All right.” Gavin flashes him an extremely grateful grin and doesn’t hesitate to turn and then run off in the direction Sharpe, and thus, Michael had taken.

“You better be okay, Michael. You better.” Gavin mutters to himself as he runs. Out of ear shot and down wind, no one heard him.

\---

**7:58 PM**

_‘Fuck!’_ Michael thinks venomously as he chases after Sharpe. With his head start he’d managed to get far enough ahead that Michael could just see the fabric of his unbuttoned suit jacket flapping behind him as he rounded corners.

“C’mon occifer! You’ve chased me this far, why don’t you catch me?” Sharpe calls to Michael over his shoulder and the detective seethes as he runs. Too busy trying to fight the burn in his lungs and deciding not to dignify Sharpe’s taunting with a reply, Michael remains silent.

With all of the running he’s done, Michael can’t hear anything but his ragged breaths and the slap of his shoes against concrete. There will be the smattering of Sharpe’s crazed laughter and a few more taunts from the vampire, but it’s as if there is no outside world. There is just the maze of alleyways, a man on the run, and his pursuer.

“Well damn, seems I’ve hit a dead end.” Michael hears Sharpe remark seemingly to the wall in front of him and Michael tries to contain his relief as Sharpe turns to face him.

“F-fucking finally,” Michael pants, “You’ve got nowhere left to run.” The moment the words leave his mouth he realizes how ridiculous they are, but it’s too late to retract them. He knows it was cliché and it certainly doesn’t help that Sharpe throws him a smug grin and looks completely unaffected by all the running he’s just done. Fucking enhanced stamina, Michael thinks darkly as he flicks the safety off on his gun.

“Really? ‘Nowhere left to run?’ Is that the best you got?” Sharpe asks with a tilt of his head and Michael gnashes his teeth, determined not to let this fucker get under his skin lest he drive him to make a rash decision. Instead of responding to the bait Michael gathers his composure and starts toward Sharpe. Once he’s just a few paces away he pulls the slide and then brings his arm up to aim his gun at the other man.

“Alan Sharpe, you are under arrest for attempted murder, several accounts of murder in the first degree, and kidnapping. You have the right to remain silent and anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You also have the right to an attorney; if you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you. Now, if you turn yourself over willingly we can-” Sharpe cuts him off.

“Turn myself over? You really think that I’d do that, especially after making you chase me around?” Sharpe asks disbelievingly and Michael tosses him a black look.

“If you turn yourself over willingly,” Michael says again as if Sharpe hadn’t spoken, “you’ll be treated accordingly. There’s no chance you’ll get less than what you deserve, but-” Sharpe cuts him off again.

“Less than I deserve, huh? What if I gave you something? What would I deserve then?” Michael detects a bit of a quaver in Sharpe’s voice, but nothing on his face gives away what he’s feeling.

 _‘If only Gavin were here…’_ Michael thinks to himself.

“What do you mean by ‘something?’?” He asks aloud and Sharpe gives him a viciously satisfied grin.

“Information.”

“What information?” Michael bites out the question and Sharpe laughs.

“Vital information.” He responds and Michael is fully ready to put all the bullets he has in his clip into the motherfucker when he hears the sound of footsteps.

“Michael?” Speak of the devil.

“Hey Gavin.”

\---

“Hey Gavin.” Michael acknowledges his presence tersely. He can feel the detective’s consternation bubbling under the surface, simmering like a pot almost about to boil. He can also feel a touch of worry (from Sharpe) and, to his utter confusion, disappointment emanating from an unseen source.

“I see you have a friend.” Gavin hears Sharpe remark and he looks away from the back of Michael’s head to their suspect just in time to see him draw out a gun. _‘Must have had it tucked away.’_ Gavin muses as he reaches out with his empathy.

Standing in the shadow of a building backlit by the sun, Sharpe’s face is hidden in shadows, but Gavin can easily pick out laughing eyes and sharp, white teeth bared in an infuriating smirk. Eyes lowering, Gavin sees the gun held loosely in Sharpe’s left hand.  

“You said you had info.” Michael states and Gavin sees Sharpe’s smirk widen, canines flashing. _‘He might not be feral, but he’s still a monster,’_ Gavin thinks, _‘a monster that still has its head.’_

“I do indeed have information and I can give it to you. For a price.” Sharpe says and Gavin greatly dislikes the casual manner in which the other vampire uses his gun to point at Michael.

“How much?” Gavin asks as he reaches for his gun and Sharpe, who had kept his attention on Michael despite his arrival, now turns his attention on the agent.

“Oh I don’t know. It’d have to be a lot though considering what it would mean for K if I were to-”

It happens very quickly. So quickly that Gavin will wonder how he even remembers it.

Before Sharpe can finish his sentence, a gunshot comes seemingly out of nowhere, hitting the ground at Sharpe’s feet. There is an extremely brief expanse of time where no one reacts and then Sharpe is running. Michael moves after him and Gavin feels his intent on trying to get the other out of the unseen sniper’s line of sight. He manages to get a hold of him, but then another shot goes off and Michael goes down with a shout, arms thrust forward to break his fall. For a minute Gavin thinks Michael will push himself off of the ground, but then another minute goes by and Michael _still_ hasn’t moved an inch. Sharpe sees this as an opportunity to get away, but when he tries to run past Gavin, and Dan who had arrived amidst the confusion, Gavin quickly flicks the safety off on his own firearm and takes a shot. Sharpe goes down without a word, gun falling from his hand to clatter on the pavement.

“B?” Gavin hears his friend try, but the question goes unanswered.

“Show yourself!” Gavin, absolutely positive the sniper is still in the area, demands of the air. He practically growls in frustration when he gets no response. Resisting the urge to curse a blue streak, he keeps his eyes trained upwards, futilely trying to find the shooter, but gets distracted when he hears a voice. He looks to Dan, but when he gets shrug and a shake of the head he turns away.

“G-Gavin?” The voice comes again and instantly, Gavin is at Michael’s side. For the first time in a long while, he is sickened at the sight and smell of fresh blood.

When Michael tries to sit up he is torn between wanting to help him and wanting to keep him lying down so as not to agitate his injury. But all too quickly, the fabric of Michael’s shirt and jacket is soaked with blood, and Gavin goes from feeling worried to feeling absolutely terrified. Still ignoring Dan, he gathers Michael close to him and gives the other man his best attempt at a smile.

“Hey there, my little Michael. How’re you doing?”

“What happened to Sharpe? Did he get away?” Michael asks instead of replying and Gavin shakes his head.

“No, I-I uh,” here Gavin tries to swallow past the lump in his throat, “I shot him and he- He’s dead.” Michael’s lips curve upward at that.

“R-really? You’ve got fucking amazing aim then. Must’ve been pretty difficult to shoot him with all _that_ going on.” Michael makes a weak gesture when he says the word ‘that’ obviously referring to the scuffle from before.

“No, not really I-”

“Gavin.” Dan’s voice comes again, but Gavin ignores him.

“You just what?” Michael asks, but his voice is growing faint.

“I just acted on instinct.” Gavin replies and Michael tries another smile. With his injury it comes off as more of a grimace.

“Killer instinct…” Michael quips. “Hey Gavin?”

“Yes Michael?”  

“I’m fucking tired…” The detective says and Gavin lets loose a laugh that sounds more like a sob.

“You were shot, Michael. That’s why you’re all gammy.” Gavin replies and Michael, finally, manages a weak grin.

“Ah.” Gavin senses the man wants to say more, but he never gets the chance to before his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Michael?” _‘No. No, nonononononono.’_

“ _Michael!”_

\---

“ _Michael!”_ Dan hears Gavin shout and instantly, he reacts, taking out his phone to call for an ambulance. After painstakingly explaining the situation and giving the approximate address, he thanks the operator, hangs up, and then dials another number.

“Hello, Geoff?”

_“Dan?”_

“Michael’s been shot.” Dan says without any flourish and the line goes silent.

_“What the fuck happened?”_

“I arrived on scene just before Gavin took out Sharpe, but Michael was already downed before that so I don’t know anything.”

_“Fucking- Did you call the ambulance?”_

“It was the first thing I did.”

 _“Okay, okay, good.”_ Dan heard Geoff breathe deeply over the line. _“Just wait for them then. How’s Gavin holding up?”_ At Geoff’s query Dan moves so he can see his friend and finds him still crouched by Michael’s body. No. Gavin was crouched by Michael. _By. Michael_. The detective was unconscious, not dead. At least Dan hoped not.

“He’s sticking with Michael at the moment considering he’s fallen unconscious, but he’s got all his bits and no new holes in him so…”

 _“Michael’s unconscious!?”_ Geoff’s voice cracks as he asks and Dan winces at the volume. Before Dan can answer, however, Geoff’s speaking again. _“Jesus. But that’s good, that’s really good. Uh…”_

“I can hear sirens, Geoff. The ambulance is here.”

_“What? Oh, okay, stay with Gavin and Michael. Go with them to the hospital so you can keep an eye on Gavin, all right?”_

“He’ll do nothing stupid on my watch, I promise.”

_“Good, good. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later Dan.”_

“Yeah. See you later, Geoff.”

\---

**9:57 PM**

Gavin hasn’t looked at the clock mounted on the wall in ages, but he knows it’s late. The sun has just begun to set and its rays spill light through the blinds in the window onto Michael’s hospital room floor. The rest of the room is bathed in shade and Gavin relishes the cool, calm, and serenity the shadows bring. It is almost completely silent. Almost because Gavin can hear the drip of Michael’s IV and slow, measured breathing, heart monitor beeping at even intervals giving Gavin reassuring signs of life.

With Michael being shot in the shoulder, dangerously close to his heart, the bullet had to be surgically removed. He’d obviously been out during the entire procedure, but afterwards he was sedated for the pain and put in a drug induced sleep that he remained in even now. It doesn’t stop Gavin from talking to him though.

“I can’t help but feel that this is somehow my fault, you know? If I’d gone after Sharpe with you maybe this,” he gestures to Michael in general, eyes sticking to the white of the bandages not covered by the man’s hospital gown, “could have been avoided. You might not have been shot and I wouldn’t be here talking to you while you sleep.” He hangs his head and stares at his hands, the quiet swallowing him. _Drip, drip, drip._ _Beep, beep, beep_ , and then,

“Yet here you are.” Someone says and Gavin turns in his seat to find Geoff at the door.

“Geoff…How long have you been standing there for?” Gavin breathes out and the other man throws him a tired, but fond smile.

“For a little bit. At least, enough to hear you spewing bullshit. How is he?” Geoff asks as he comes further into the room.

“Geoff…” Gavin starts, but Geoff glares at him, stopping him from saying anything else.

“Let’s try this again. How is he?” This time around, Gavin is much more cooperative.

“He’s been out since the bullet was removed from his shoulder, but he’s sleeping soundly. The doctor says he should have all his faculties when he wakes up.” Gavin remembers listening to the doctor, waiting for a sign of how Michael would fare afterwards and, as soon as he’d heard it, he tuned the woman out. It was not fault of hers, obviously not, but all Gavin needed to know was whether Michael would be okay. As soon as he knew, he let his empathy take in her emotions as reassurance.

“That’s awesome news.” Geoff says with quiet enthusiasm as he takes a chair and Gavin, still looking at Michael, smiles.

“It is.”

A pleasant silence elapses between them and Gavin revels in it. It’s only been a few days, but he’d had enough of weighted silences, silences that left him feeling awful or sick or responsible for causing pain. He’d suffered through enough of them to last a while. Geoff, the lovely bastard, unwittingly breaks that pleasantry.

“What about you?” He asks and for a minute Gavin is confused.

“Hm? What about me?” Gavin asks absently as he watches Michael’s chest slowly rise and fall.

“How are you holding up?” Geoff elaborates and Gavin finally looks over at him. He expects to see a face set in determination, expects to see narrowed eyes, a furrowed brow, and a frown. Instead, to his surprise, he’s met with Geoff’s signature sleepy stare and a smile that is really just Geoff’s lips quirked up at one corner. Gavin lets out a sigh.

“I’m fine. More exhausted than I ever thought I could be, but over all I’m okay.”

“You’re okay?” Geoff repeats and Gavin gives him a quizzical look at his tone.

“Of course I’m okay.” Gavin replies slowly, suspiciously, but Geoff’s expression doesn’t change.

“You mean it?” Gavin clicks his tongue at Geoff’s raised brow.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.” Gavin snaps a little irritably and for a split second he thinks Geoff is going to question him again. Instead of a question, however, he gets laughter suppressed by courtesy for the unconscious.

“What’s so bloody funny?” Gavin hisses but Geoff, the prick, just keeps laughing.

“Nothing’s funny, I’m just glad.”

“Glad?” Gavin asks with a bit of a sneer and Geoff grins at him.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re back to your old self.”

“What does that even mean?” Gavin queries, clearly frustrated and Geoff just shakes his head.

“A while ago you cracked down on me because I was being moronic about the Dallas branch. You snapped at me, and rightly so. Now though, now you’re being snippy with me because I’m annoying you.”

“You always annoy me.” Gavin says, but it lacks heat. After thinking about it, he knows where Geoff is coming from.

“That’s my boy.” Geoff proclaims proudly and Gavin smiles reluctantly at the praise.

A moment passes.

“So how are you doing?” Gavin asks, unable to stand the quiet. He hears Geoff hum musingly.

“Right now I’m fine, but earlier, before I got here, I had to deal with some shit back at the station. With you and Dan here at the hospital I had to arrange for Sharpe’s body to be taken to the station so Joel could have a look at it. Oh and Dan wants to talk to you as soon as you see him.” That gives Gavin pause.

“It would seem Ryan made good on his promise after all.” Gavin says loftily as he makes a mental note about Dan and Geoff snorts.

This time, when the silence returns Gavin welcomes it. He uses it as an opportunity to reach out with his empathy to gauge how Geoff is feeling and he’s met with a surprising bout of reluctance. Keeping his gaze on the white linen of Michael’s bed sheets, he decides to call attention to it.

“Say… Geoff?” He ventures delicately and instantly he can feel Geoff’s eyes on him.

“Yeah, bud?” Gavin takes a deep breath. _‘There’s no pussying about it now…’_

“Is there something you want to tell me?” He asks on the exhale and everything in the room seems to still.

“Not really?” Geoff replies after a bit of hesitation, but Gavin knows that’s a bald faced lie. Face drawing in displeasure Gavin turns in his seat to face him.

“Come off it Ramsey,” Gavin says. He leans forward. “I can bloody well feel what you’re feeling. Say what you have to say or I’ll give you a rush of determination so I don’t have to suffer through you metaphorically shifting your feet.” Gavin’s methodology is crude, below the belt, and against his better judgement, but his patience has been worn thin.

When Geoff’s eyes go wide in the wake of his anger Gavin doesn’t feel a lick of guilt. He’s had enough of people dancing about certain subjects because they don’t know how he’ll react to them, tired of playing at cloak and dagger. After keeping a secret from the one man truly deserving of the truth, Gavin wanted a clean slate. He might as well advocate for it now. Glaring hotly at Geoff, the man finally speaks.

“You know, Michael was pretty torn up after you made that jump two years ago.” Gavin, getting a sense of déjà vu, blinks in surprise. What that really what Geoff was so apprehensive about bringing up?

“Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

“We have, but I just thought I would remind you again considering, uh, new _developments…_ ” He trails off nervously and Gavin frowns.  

“New developments?” Gavin repeats impatiently and Geoff’s expression changes, lips curving into a smirk.  

“The entire time you were over here after the initial tip toeing around each other you treated us like we were family.”

“That’s because you _are_ family.” Gavin interrupts insistently and Geoff’s smirk softens into a smile.

“I know that. But that took months- Ah, fuck no, you know I’m right.” Geoff shakes a finger at him when he tries to interrupt again and Gavin subsides.

“There is a point to all this, I trust?” Gavin asks and Geoff throws his head back and laughs quietly, still mindful of Michael who is still asleep in front of them.

“It took you less than a week to get that way with Michael.” Geoff says and even though it’s a clear statement, Gavin is in the dark.

“Okay… I still don’t understand. What are you on about?”

“You love him.” Geoff states and Gavin, who had a quick fire reply at the ready, lets his words die on his tongue.

Oh.

“It took you that long to get that out?” Gavin asks with a hint of humour to his voice and Geoff grins while shrugging.

“You’re fun to rile up.” Geoff admits and Gavin ‘hmphs’ at that.

“Cheers.” Gavin says, taking mock offense. When he rolls his eyes at Geoff, the man just laughs.

“You do love him, right?” Geoff asks a little later when they’ve gotten resettled.

For a long moment Gavin says nothing and stares anywhere that isn’t Geoff’s face. He stares at the floor, his hands, Michael’s face, but then,

“Yeah, I do.”

“I’m proud of you, buddy.” Geoff says and Gavin smiles.

When Geoff leaves, the warmth he’d brought with him remains, laying itself over Gavin’s shoulders like a shawl. And when Gavin eventually leaves he presses a kiss to Michael’s forehead at which, he swears, Michael smiles in his sleep.

\---

**Friday, July 19 th, 8:12 AM **

Getting a call from a business number telling you your friend was at the hospital because he got shot was at the top of Ray’s list of ‘shittiest ways to be woken up.’ Last night had been one of the few nights where Ray had gone to bed ‘early’ and he’d fallen asleep with full intention of sleeping in until noon. But then the obnoxious, and very loud, ringer on his business cell yanked him out of his deep sleep and, he was going to be honest, it pissed him off. After wrestling with a pillow case to get to his phone, he’d blinked blearily at the screen until he realized he didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?” Ray greets tentatively.

 _“Ray? It’s Geoff.”_ The statement, no matter how succinct, makes no sense to Ray’s still sleep fogged brain.

“Geoff? How’d you get this number?” Ray asks perplexed and Geoff sighs.

 _“Gavin gave it to me.”_ He says in a way that makes Ray feel embarrassed that he asked.

“Oh, uh... right. Sorry, go on?” Ray hears Geoff sigh.

 _“I would have called you at your regular number, but I’ve got a bunch of shit on my plate today.”_ The chief of police grouses and Ray frowns.

“Okay then... You gonna tell me why you’re calling?” Ray asks and he hears Geoff breathe shakily over the line.  

 _“Uh yeah, look… It’s about Michael. I-I’ve got some bad news.”_ Ray, still lying down, braces the elbow of his free arm in the mattress and let’s his head fall until his forehead is resting on the heel of his hand. He breathes heavily out his nose.

“Lay it on me.”

And so Geoff had told him. But even as Geoff was telling him, Ray didn’t know whether he should or shouldn’t be surprised. He was worried, yes. Worried out of his fucking mind, but he was also angry? Irritated?

God.

“He’s in the fucking hospital.” Ray says to himself after the call has ended. “Fuck.”

Shoving his hands into his hair, it doesn’t take long for Ray’s thoughts to spiral into memories of Michael as a cop back in Jersey. Before making detective, before moving to Austin, Michael had been a beat cop wearing the standard navy blue uniform with a night stick strapped to his waist. Fresh from the academy and given patrol duty, Michael had been in charge of prowling the city streets making sure scumbags and shitheads never got away with anything. Ray remembers vividly that Michael did this job well.

Anyhow, one night he’d been patrolling downtown when he walked by a bar just as a fight had broken out between two guys who, according to Michael when he’d recounted this story to Ray, were so drunk they were squinting to see, it was any wonder they could land any of the punches they threw. Obviously, as duty dictated, Michael had broken up the fight, but had not, of course, come out unscathed. When he’d visited Ray a week after the fight his split lip was still red and the bruising on his face had been a fucking kaleidoscope of colours.

He’d been checked out by an EMT then, but he was never bed ridden. And throughout his career, any other injuries were minor enough that Michael himself could take care of them at the station; nicks, cuts, and bruises all cared for with a standard first aid kit.

When Michael had told him about his promotion Ray had been ecstatic. But at the same time Ray remembered that he’d wanted to scream at his friend for taking it. Because at the same time Michael was walking his beat in Jersey, Ray was walking the streets of New York in search of information. And it was because he was an informant that Ray knew at first hand the dangers detectives faced. But he’d held back and slapped a congratulatory hand on Michael’s back when he’d come over to tell Ray in person. And he’d seen Michael off at the airport, waited until his friend’s flight was well up in the air before he left to go home.

And now here he was getting up out of bed to go see that very same friend in the hospital.

Just. _God._

Ray gets ready in silence, pulling on some jeans and ditching his sleeping shirt for something a little more ‘presentable.’ Usually, whenever Ray went out on an excursion, whether it was hanging out with friends or business, he never really ‘dressed up.’ It was in favour of being comfortable and, if necessary, it was also about remaining as anonymous as he could. The reason Ray got so much business as an info broker was because he came across as approachable to those that were in the know and also because it was fucking hilarious to see the surprise on people’s faces when he showed up for an exchange. But that was the usual and this wasn’t. Something told Ray that wearing a shirt that declared “hit me with your best shot” in bold capital letters was considerably awful given the situation.

Shout out to irony, am I right?

Striding briskly to his front door he slips on his checkered Vans, makes sure his keys are secured to his belt loop and then snatches his bus pass from its place near the door. Once he’s sure he has everything he leaves, locking the door behind him.

\---

**10:14 AM**

Ray tears away from his apartment clutching his bus pass in hand so tightly the edges dig into his hands. And when he gets on the bus he can’t sit still. As soon as he gets off, he books it into the hospital to see Michael, no doubt scaring the receptionist at the front desk when he asks if what he came to do was possible.

When he gets to Michael’s room it’s just before nine and he finds his friend still asleep in his bed. It takes every ounce of his common sense not to press the call button simply because he thought his best friend looked a little worse for wear. With a pale face, bruises under his eyes, and bandages peeking out from underneath his hospital gown, Michael Jones was hardly the bell of the ball.

With Michael out for the count, Ray takes to absently checking up on things; scrolling through emails, texts, and other forms of mobile communication which were then replied to, forwarded, or archived depending on what they were. Forty minutes later finds him dozing in a chair beside Michael’s bed. He’s pretty close to fully conking out when hears someone call his name.

“Ray…?” Comes a faint voice and the man in question opens his eyes and looks around groggily for the source.

“Michael?” He asks a little blearily and his friend snorts at him derisively.

“Jesus BrownMan, I was the one who got shot so why are you getting gammy on me?” Ray scrunches his face up at Michael’s turn of phrase.

“Gammy? What the fuck? Where the hell did you get that from?” Ray asks, half serious and Michael blinks.

“I, uh, I actually don’t know. I think I might have heard it somewhere, but I can’t remember.” Michael admits and Ray smirks.

“That makes you gammy then.” He says smugly and Michael glares at him. His wan face and attire take all the intensity away, however, and Ray is inclined to believe that Michael is fully aware of that fact.

“Ray, dude. Why the fuck would you ridicule my use of the word and then use it against me?”

“I didn’t make fun of you, asshole. I just asked why.”

“Don’t confuse me then, I’ve still got to flush the sedatives from my system. No doubt my wound’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker when the painkillers wear off too.” Michael comments as he gingerly rotates his shoulder.

At the mention of his injury, Ray’s attitude towards Michael takes a drastic change. Gone are the smirks, the smiles, and the easy laughter. Anger and worry, lots and lots of worry, take their place.

“So you got shot.” Ray says to start off and Michael puts a halt to moving his shoulder.

“I did, indeed, get shot. Your point?” Ray glares at Michael’s antagonistic tone.

“You did something. Something really stupid I bet and you got fucking _shot_ in the shoulder. Looking at the placement of the bandages, I’m guessing the douche that shot you got pretty damn close to your heart.” Michael tries to wave him off, but the movement agitates his shoulder and he ends up folding into himself as he reacts to the pain.

“Fuck-”

At that moment, Ray is unsympathetic.

“Definitely something stupid.” He mutters loud enough for Michael to hear and his friend gives him the most venomous glare.

“Ray, I’m fine. It’s just a shoulder injury.” Any other time Ray would have been swayed to agree with Michael, because if anyone knew the limits of their own body it was him. It was a fact that Ray had to learn in order for him to stop worrying so much about Michael being a detective. And for the longest time Ray had tried to keep Michael away from the supernatural world, but all of his efforts to keep Michael from getting involved disintegrated into dust when Gavin Greenaway came into his life and then proceed to fall out of it just as quickly as he’d come.

Ray didn’t resent Gavin, couldn’t bring himself to when he understood why Gavin did what he did. But at the same time Ray couldn’t help but feel a bit of consternation and guilt. And now today, of all days, was when all of those bottled up emotions could out. And they did so in spectacular fashion.

“It’s not just a shoulder injury, asshole.” Ray says and if looks could kill- at least he was at a hospital.

“Ray, I _told_ you. I’m fucking fine okay? I mean really, I’ll probably be discharged within a few days, maybe a week tops. I-” Ray cuts Michael off before he can hear anymore.

“No. Just, _no_.” Ray seethes and Michael actually moves back at his sudden display of anger.

“Ray-”

“No you motherfucker, you almost _died_. Like, you would’ve been six feet in the ground had the shooter hit their target. Jesus Michael, I never thought you could be so fucking stupid.” Ray admits as he shakes his head, but his head snaps up to look at Michael when the man lets out a laugh.

“Me? Stupid? You’re the one getting to the source of this type of shit.” What?

“The fuck?” Ray asks, genuinely confused, but Michael just narrows his eyes at him.

“You’re a damned info broker. You listen to people talk shit about other people and then spread it around for a price. What the fuck would happen if you learnt something someone didn’t want you to know? Don’t you fucking dare call me stupid when you’re being just as idiotic.” Michael says acidly and Ray gnaws on his bottom lip.

“I have connections, safety measures to make sure I make it out of every exchange alive. I take all sorts of precautions.” Ray asserts, but Michael’s expression tells him that he is unmoved.

“Then you have to realize that I do the same. I took every precaution during this case and I still got shot. But that’s fine because _shit happens_ , Ray. Shit happens and you gotta learn how to pick yourself up off the ground if that shit knocks you down. So yeah, I might’ve done a really stupid thing, but I’m fine. I’m still breathing. I’m still the easily angered asshole from Jersey that used to take the train to visit you in New York and I’m still the guy that beat you by one in that match of Banjo Tooie.” That last comment rips a reluctant laugh from Ray that sets them both going. By the time they settle they’re both breathing heavily, gasping for air as they share grins.

“Goddammit Michael.” Ray says, half chastising, half amused.

“What?” And that’s just it, Ray doesn’t know what. What to do, what to say; he’s at a loss. For a minute he scrambles to think of something. But then it hits him.

\---

“Promise me you’ll at least try not to be so fucking idiotic?” Ray tries and Michael frowns at him in mock concentration.

“I dunno, man…” Michael says and Ray glares at him.

“Dude.”

“Fine, I promise I’ll try. But, like I said, shit happens.” Michael says as a reminder and Ray shrugs.

“Hearing you say the words is a start.”

The thing about being friends with Ray was that whenever Michael spent time with him there was always that sense of “we could spend an entire day not saying shit to each other and we’d still have a blast.” Ray’s laid back nature fit well with Michael’s more ‘in your face’ approach and provided a balance that the two of them could work off of. And being with Ray now reminded made Michael extremely grateful. He was getting closer to Gavin, building a rapport with the other man, but there was just so much he didn’t know about the agent that made Michael uncertain.

Ray was familiar territory, a comfort that Michael would be hard pressed to say he could live without. It made sense at the same time that it was terrifying.

“Hey Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming to see me.” Michael says sincerely and Ray scoffs.

“Dude, of course I’d swing by. BFF’s am I right?” Michael laughs out loud.

“God, Ray. Of course. BFF’s.” They seal the deal with a fist bump and then move on to less heavy topics of discussion. Instead of arguing about putting themselves in harm’s way, they argue about gaming strategies and debate the pros and cons of new releases.

In short they act as best friends, and when Ray leaves Michael feels less shitty about being confined to a hospital bed. When he falls asleep an hour later, there’s a smile fixed to his face.

\---

**11:20 AM**

While Gavin is _very_ passionate about his work, the one thing he hates the most is being debriefed. In the beginnings of his career he hadn’t minded it; in fact it made him felt important. As an agent of MESA, back when the agency was finding its footing, he felt that debriefing was all part of the ‘agent image’ that he so wanted to have and cultivate. Debriefing now, as MESA’s vice director, was a right bore.

Together with Dan, Gavin commandeered the conference room and made a video call to his father. Taking turns, they relayed to him everything that had happened during the case and reported the aftermath. After that, Gavin received a lecture about not feeding, got told several times that he brought provisions over for a reason, and was admonished for keeping his position as VD a secret.

But he was also commended for his work, lauded for his efforts with Lana Forde, and was told in earnest that his overall actions made his father proud. Both Greenways had shared familial smiles at that, but then got back on track.

In the end the three of them decided that the Austin PD would receive the majority of credit for the case. As they were the ones to pick the case, responsibility fell to them. MESA would mark the case on their records, but that would be all they did.

Their last order of business was deciding when to collect Sharpe’s body so it could be cremated. As Gavin had shot him with a round tailored to vampires there was little chance he could come back, but it was procedure to burn criminal vampires if they died. Alan Sharpe wouldn’t be the first to go up in flames.

\---

_“Agent Gruchy.”_

“Yes sir?”

 _“Would it be all right for me to have a word with my son? Alone?”_ Gavin watches as Dan makes painfully awkward eye contact with his father through the video display, and he can feel Dan’s reluctance.

“It’s all right Dan. I had a feeling he’d want to talk to me eventually. You should go. Get some fresh air or something you eat. You must be starving, yes?”

“Huh?” Dan says as he turns to look at Gavin. “Oh, um, ‘lright. I’ll see you later Gav?” Dan asks as he pushes his chair out from under the conference table and Gavin nods.

“See you later, B.” Gavin watches Dan leave and then waits until his footsteps fade away before he turns back around in his seat to face his father.

“So you wanted to speak with me.” Gavin says and his father smiles.

 _“I did.”_ He replies simply and Gavin huffs.

“Well then, out with it.” Gavin sees his father’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he gives Gavin a fond smile, but it’s quickly replaced by a very deliberate expression.

 _“Now that the case has concluded, what do you intend to do?”_ His father asks and Gavin takes pause.

“What do you mean?” Gavin asks even though knows full well what his father means. With the case over there was very little keeping him in America. Though Gavin loved Michael, and while his father would be very understanding of their relationship (whatever it was), aside from emotional ties, Gavin was no longer tethered to Austin.

With the London branch’s access to a private jet, arranging transportation would not be an issue, and thus Gavin was robbed of even that excuse.

“I don’t- I honestly don’t know, sir.” Gavin admits and he doesn’t have to look to know that his father is frowning.

_“Well, do you intend to return to London soon or would you prefer to remain for an extended period of time?”_

“I-” The feel of his phone buzzing in his pocket makes Gavin break off.

 _“Gavin?”_ His father tries, but Gavin ignores him in favour of pulling out his phone to read the text.

_Ray Narvaez Jr. > Gavin Free: Michael’s awake _

_Ray Narvaez Jr. > Gavin Free: just thought you’d wanna know _

_“Gavin, you haven’t answered my question. Gavin?”_ His father tries again, but Gavin pushes his chair away from the conference table and stands, moving on auto pilot.

“I’m sorry but, could I get back to you on that, sir?” Gavin asks, but he doesn’t stick around to hear his father’s reply. Instead he turns and makes for the doors and he doesn’t look back while his father watches him leave.

“Gavin?” Dan calls after him as he passes by his friend in the hall. Gavin doesn’t even glance at him.

“Michael’s awake.” Is all he says before he’s gone.

A few moments later, after some looking around, Gavin secures a ride from Ryan, and on the way to the hospital he texts Ray back. His reply is only one word.

_Gavin Free > Ray Narvaez Jr.: thanks_

\---

**12:17 PM**

It takes just over fifteen minutes for Ryan and Gavin to get to the hospital and as soon as Ryan puts the car in park, Gavin is out of the vehicle and headed for the entrance. Ryan follows after him at a more sedate pace and when he gets inside Gavin is already, as Ryan surmises, making his way to Michael’s room. Gavin is just about to get into the elevator when Ryan doesn’t follow after him. Gavin turns to look at Ryan over his shoulder, confusion evident in his eyes. Ryan resists smiling at that.

“Ryan?” Gavin asks perplexedly.

“You go up and see him. I’ll just hang about down here, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Ryan lets out a little laugh.

“I’m touched by your consideration, but I think you need to see him more than I do. Now go, Michael’s not the type of guy to keep waiting.”

“All right, thanks Ryan. I’ll see you later?”

“Later, now go.”

“Cheers.”

\---

Gavin has been standing outside Michael’s hotel room for a good five minutes before he decides to approach the door. As soon as he gets in he stops in the doorway and stares, a little bit in disbelief, at Michael who is sitting up in bed.

“Michael…” Gavin breathes out the name and the smile the man gives him if full of affection.

“Hey Gavin.” Michael says in a soft voice and Gavin beams.

“You’re awake.” Gavin states and Michael snorts.

“Of course I am, now get here asshole before you make yourself look any more suspicious.” Gavin laughs, perhaps a little loudly, at that.

“You’re already feeling better I see. I’m glad.” Gavin says as he nears the bed and Michael scrunches his nose up at him.

“Yeah, well, you on the other hand, look like shit. What the fuck were you doing before you got here?” Michael asks and Gavin snickers tiredly.

“I was speaking to my director. Thanks for that by the way.” He replies simply and Michael winces before he chuckles.

“Ooh, rough. And no problem. You’re my boi so it’s pretty obvious I’ve got your back, right?” Gavin’s lips slowly curve into a contented smile.

“I am, in fact, your boy.” He agrees and something in his chest stirs when Michael bares his teeth in a dimply grin.

“Fuck yeah. So what’d he say?” Michael asks as Gavin reaches a hand out to him. Wordlessly, Michael slips his hand into Gavin’s and laces their fingers together and Gavin relishes in the warmth of Michael’s fingertips against the back of his hand.

“Hm?” Gavin lets out a questioning noise and he feels Michael’s fingers tighten.

“What did your director say?” He asks again and something not quite a smile and not quite a smirk ghosts upon Gavin’s lips.

“Well, before I left the room to go see you, he was asking me about what I intended to do now that the case was over.” He says and then he finally looks up into Michael’s eyes. He’d kept his gaze trained on their hands, too afraid, too hesitant, too nervous to bring it up. There was no need to explain what ‘it’ was.

\---

The elephant in the room was what either of them would do once Gavin (and Dan) returned to jolly old England. Would they continue what they had now? If they did, how would they? Long distance relationships worked, but only if both partners were dedicated. Not that those in long distance relationships weren’t dedicated, and not that they were not dedicated either, but Michael was an accomplished detective. He wouldn’t always have something on his plate, but when he did there was little to no time he could spend not concentrating on work. It just wasn’t in him.

And then there was Gavin. Gavin Greenaway who worked in integration. In another country. Gavin Greenaway who worked in integration when he could because his real responsibility lay within being Vice Director for MESA. (God, Michael would never get used to that.)

“What do you want to do?” Michael asks and Gavin’s eyes flick up to look at him before flicking back down.

“I don’t really-”

“Could you stay? I’m getting discharged in a bit and it’d be nice to spend some time with you outside of work.”

“You’re getting discharged? Michael, you were shot, why are you-”

“I stuck a deal with the doc.” Michael says and Gavin’s mouth closes with a click.

“A deal?” Gavin asks, tone dripping with skepticism and Michael has to fight not to feel irritated because Gavin has every right to be worried.

“Yes, a deal. I get to leave, but in exchange I don’t go to work until I’m given a go ahead. And after that I have to go for regular checkups to monitor my gunshot wound. Check the healing process, range of a motion, and all that.”

“I don’t know…” Gavin says unsurely and Michael frowns at the crease he sees develop in the other’s brow.

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m not gonna go back to work until I’m fully recovered. Any other time I probably would’ve fought more against such a stipulation, but considering all the fuckery I’ve been through, waiting a bit sounds a hell of a lot better than reopening my stitches.” When Gavin looks at him with eyes still clouded with doubt Michael tightens his grip on Gavin’s hands. He knows Gavin can pick up his emotions without physical contact, but it makes Michael feel like he’s getting his point across better than he could have if he wasn’t holding Gavin’s hand. He also pours every ounce of his feelings for Gavin out into the open air and hopes that Gavin will just take the outpouring without making mention to it.

“Does it hurt?” Gavin asks a little while later and Michael actually has to think for a bit.  

“A little bit. It’s sore more than anything, though.” Michael admits. Instead of the fretful look he expects, Gavin gives Michael a little smile. It’s hardly amused, but it’s better than worry.

“I would expect so.” Gavin says, still smiling. “You did narrowly escape death.” The smile fades.

“Gavin.” Michael says warningly and Gavin sighs.

“I know, I know. You struck a deal with the doctor. That doesn’t mean I can’t go a little mental when someone I care for is hurt.” Immediately after Gavin finishes speaking, Michael doesn’t respond. He just sits there silently until,

“You care for me?” Michael asks, genuinely taken off guard and Gavin looks away from him. “Gavin?”

“I do.” Normally Michael wouldn’t be upset about such a monosyllabic reply, but right now he’s just grateful Gavin is no longer beating around the bush. Michael had learnt that Gavin had developed the ability to direct conversation away from _difficult_ subject matter.

When all Gavin does is give him an anticipatory look, Michael realizes he has yet to respond to Gavin’s statement. Fighting embarrassment, Michael rushes to speak.

“Well, uh, I- I care for you too.” Michael says as he tries to will away the rising heat in his cheeks. It’s a losing battle though when he feels a rush of affection that is clearly not his own.

It’s such a silly thing for the two of them to be thrown off by admissions of care. It’s not like they haven’t done so before. It’s just…

“Really nice to hear…”

“Michael?”

“Yeah Gavin?”

“What’s really nice to hear?” Gavin asks and for a moment Michael is taken aback.

“Wait, what?”

“You said ‘really nice to hear.’ What do you mean by that?”

“Uh-”

“If it’s about me saying I care for you, then I agree.” Michael blinks.

“Agree to what?” He asks a little too quickly and Gavin smiles at him.

“That hearing someone say ‘I care for you’ is nice to hear. I agree because it’s true.” Michael feels his mouth work open and close, but nothing coherent comes out.

“Oh, well… Fuck, um…”

“You can change the subject if you like, Michael. I just thought you might want to know.” Gavin says with amusement colouring his voice and Michael takes that for the out it is. He takes a deep breath and lets his eyes fall closed. When he exhales, his eyes open and he’s greeted by Gavin’s patient face; lips quirked, eyes alight with curiosity, and Michael swallows. He can feel his heart thumping away, can hear the heart monitor pick up a bit, but there’s no immediate cause for worry. He swallows again.

“Okay then. I, uh- I’m gonna circle back a bit since this is something I really want to know. Are you going to stay?” Michael asks and he watches as the curiosity in Gavin’s eyes dims a tad.  

“Well I, ah, I thought I would- I thought-” Michael tightens the grip he has on Gavin’s hand again.

“Hey, hey, Gavin, it’s okay. It’s okay. Now, I know you don’t really have to, but just breathe.” Gavin takes a breath. “Okay. How about this then; what did your director say?” Michael tires and he sees Gavin lick his lips.

“He said that I could remain in America for a little while longer and then call for pick up. Well, he didn’t say that last part, but it was implied and-”

“Gavin.” Michael says and Gavin breaks off and gives a wide eyed look. When all Michael does is stare Gavin looks away and closes his eyes. Then he takes another breath and Michael watches as the tension just seems to

melt

away.

“So what do you want to do?” Michael asks again and this time, when Gavin looks at him, he has a gentle smile on his face and his eyes are bright with something that makes Michael feel warm.

“I think I’ll stay.”

“Yeah?” Michael asks and Gavin’s smile widens into a grin.

“Yeah. After all, who else would look after my little Michael?” Gavin joke and Michael snorts. 

“Fucking asshole. C’mere.” Michael orders even as he reaches out and Gavin, the obliging fucker, meets Michael halfway by leaning in so Michael can pull him in for a kiss. When they part Gavin stares at him before he starts to laugh.  

“An asshole I may be, but I’m yours, aren’t I?” _‘God, what a sap,’_ Michael thinks even as he grins.

“No.” Michael says and Gavin raises a brow.

“No?”

“Well, you _are_ an asshole, but you’re more than that.”

“What am I then?” Gavin laughs and Michael’s grin softens into a smile.

“You’re my boy.” Michael states resolutely and Gavin’s face softens as well.

“Right.”

\---

**Epilogue**

**Monday, July 22 nd, 1:12 PM **

Dating, or at least going on dates, was a foreign concept to Gavin. Back when he was human, he never really tossed his hat in that ring. Couldn’t be arsed, he said, don’t have the time. More likely it was a fear of rejection that kept him out of the dating game. There was also the war, specifically Dan fighting in the war, to worry about. And while he’d always been interested in photography growing up, the real reason he’d taken the job as war photographer was to be closer to Dan, his best friend. Now, if he hadn’t given enough of a damn, if he hadn’t taken the job at all, let alone take it to be with Dan, Gavin would have most likely remained in Oxfordshire with the rest of the non-combatants and lived there until he was withered and grey. Old age, and _not_ a feral vampire, would have been his killer.

After he was bitten, after he’d fully changed, he’d been a bit more social. But all of his hook ups went nowhere. He’d just had a string of one night stands, a bunch of emotionless fucks which suited him just fine. As he was still learning the ropes of vampirism and still working on his empathy, emotional hang ups weren’t something he could afford. One such hang up, the incident with the girl, had turned him off sex entirely. Dating wasn’t even a thought. So Gavin had closed his heart, threw himself into his work, and tried to never think about being with another person for as long as he could help it.

It was a lonely time.

But then he met the Ramseys and he opened up his heart again. With the support of his father, of Dan and Geoff and Griffon and Audree, he let himself grow close to people. He initiated and fostered emotional connections that, and Gavin was proud of this fact, still held firm today.

The fear of rejection still lingered at the back of his mind. It still tried to paint his thoughts in the drab greys of worry, but there was so much more colour in his life now, that it barely affected him.

Michael was a veritable trove of colour. He kept Gavin’s life interesting, kept him on his toes with his unpredictability, and if Gavin’s heart still pumped, it would have skipped a beat at the sight of dimpled grins and the sound of raucous laughter.

Gavin had no way of telling if he was _in love_ with Michael, but he was sure _love_ was there.

“Gavin, you fucking moron. You’ve got whipped cream on that nose of yours, come on.” Michael remarks with an exasperated air, but there’s an impish grin tugging at his lips and his brown eyes are alight with a happiness Gavin hope he’ll get to see for as long as he can.

“Apologies Michael, but I can’t exactly help it, now can I?” Gavin asks with mock sincerity and Michael snorts before reaching a hand out and swiping at the whipped cream with a finger. A smirk finds its way onto Gavin’s lips where Michael licks the cream from his finger, and it widens into grin when Michael looks at him from below his lashes.

“Man that’s sweet. Do you even taste it?” Michael asks as he takes a sip from his own whipped drink and Gavin shrugs.

“Not really. I know it’s sweet, but to me it tastes just as sweet as that sundae we shared earlier.” He admits and Michael gives him a look.

“Really? But that thing was covered in a bunch of desert sauces. You’re telling me that strawberry, caramel, chocolate sauce on top of French vanilla ice cream is on par with whipped cream?”

“Might be. I’ve no taste for sweets personally. It comes with the territory.” Gavin says with just a bit of emphasis on the word _territory_ and Michael blinks confusedly for a few seconds before,

“Oh, right. Is it like that for all foods?” Michael asks as Gavin takes a sip from his drink.

“Hm, I guess,” Here Gavin licks his lips, “though it was like that when I was human too, so…”

“Wait, what?”

“I can’t really differentiate between tastes, not then and certainly not now.” Gavin admits and Michael scoffs.

“Really? You’re not bullshitting me?” A shake of the head, no. “Fuck man, that’s tragic.”

Gavin shrugs.

“I’m not really bothered by it. I’m just glad I can still experience human food unlike some other vampires.”

“They can’t handle it?” Another shake of the head.

“No. I’ve heard it’s like ashes on the tongue.” Gavin explains and Michael’s faces pulls in a moue of disgust.

“Ugh, my sympathies then.” Gavin laughs.

“I’ll pass that on.”

\---

**Monday, July 29 th, 10:08 AM **

Michael has seen plenty of people off at the airport, but he’s never stood on the runway whilst a private jet gets loaded up with luggage. Yet here he is at the Bergstrom standing in the shade of a jet that, in just a few minutes, will be loaded up with a number of passengers he can count on one hand. Geoff had been the one to drive Gavin and Dan to the airport and Michael had tagged along so he could say goodbye to his- lover? Romantic interest? Boyfriend wasn’t the right word even though Michael was pretty sure he and Gavin were dating. As a ‘last hurrah’ of sorts, the two of them had gone on a ‘date’ every day of the extra week Gavin had remained in Austin, but did that count?

“Michael, you seem occupied, are you okay?” Michael hears an accented voice ask and he takes unfocused eyes away from the jet to find Gavin stood just a few feet away.

“I’m fine, it’s just-” He breaks off to try and swallow past the lump in his throat, gaze dropping to the sun warmed tarmac beneath his feet.

“I’m leaving for London, is that it?” Gavin asks and Michael nods, not trusting his voice. “Oh, Michael…”

“Don’t say it.” Michael practically orders and he hears Gavin exhale.

“Don’t say what?” Gavin asks. Gently, because he’s literally an empathetic motherfucker and Michael can’t even begrudge him for it.

“You know what I mean.” Michael says insistently, staring at the ground and Gavin starts towards him.

\---

“You know what I mean.” Michael says with a little shake of his head before he hangs his head and Gavin’s lips quirk in a thoughtful facsimile of a smile. Right then he decides to make his approach.

“You’re right, I do know,” He says as he reaches out and takes one of Michael’s hands in his, “but considering the person I am, I’m going to say it anyway.” He tips Michael’s head up with his free hand.

\---

As he feels his head being tipped up, Michael prepares himself, and when Gavin’s face enters his vision he immediately tries to make eye contact. Brown meets blue-green and Michael searches. For something, anything. What he finds is what he knows Gavin feels. There’s a glimmer of worry, a shine of affection, and a glint of “you’re a bloody adult, Michael, stop acting like a child.” The last one is a bit iffy, a bit embellished, but Michael is going to stick with it anyway.

“I’m going to miss you, Michael Jones. Ardently.” Gavin says, bringing Michael back to reality just in time for him to react to a kiss Michael will, after immense prodding and maybe a bunch of drinks, count as a kiss that left him breathless.

“This isn’t an Austen novel, Gavin. Don’t think you can pull that charming British gentleman bullshit on me because I-”

“I know. Doesn’t make it any less true.” Gavin says just as Michael is about to ramble. Internally he is thankful Gavin cut him off, but on the outside…

“Don’t cut me off asshole; I’m trying to make a point.” Michael says irritably and Gavin laughs at him.

“But Michael, I already know how you feel.” Oh no.

“You did not just-” Gavin laughs.

Oh no, no, no, no. 

“Gavin!”

“Not sorry in the slightest, love.” Gavin says just as Dan calls for him.

“Come on, B! Cargo’s loaded so it’s wheels up!”

“I’ll be right there, B!” Gavin calls back without even looking in the other agent’s direction.

“You’re gonna keep in touch, right?” Michael’s tone sounds more like he’s telling Gavin to stay in touch, but Gavin answers anyway.

“Of course. If you don’t mind long distance charges we can call and text. And if not, we have Skype.” Gavin suggests and Michael mulls over the choices briefly.

“Skype, definitely Skype. I don’t think I’d be satisfied with your stupid voice alone. Have to make sure you’re still alive from time to time, yeah?” At first Gavin grins at that, but then his face sobers.

“I’ll have Dan keeping an eye on me, but yeah. I’d like to see your little smush face as well.”

“Smush face?”

“It’s a word. More of a Britishism, if anything.”

“A Gavinism.” Michael says and Gavin nods, conceding.

“A Gavinism.” He agrees and then his face splits into another smile. The past week, including today, has been full of smiles and grins and laughter, and it’s something Michael is incredibly grateful for.

“Gavin!” Dan calls and this time Gavin turns as he placates his friend. Michael tries to ignore what it does to him to have Gavin’s arms _still_ around him.

“I’ll be there in a mo’, don’t worry.”

Over Gavin’s shoulder Michael sees Dan look at Gavin and then at him before the agent smiles and shakes his head.

“I’m going to miss you.” Gavin repeats as he turns to face Michael again and Michael decides to forego keeping his emotions in check.

“I’m going to miss you too.” He says before he takes his hands off Gavin’s hips and brings them up to cradle the other man’s face. He pulls Gavin down for a kiss, the asshole has those few inches of leverage, and then they part.

“Goodbye, Gavin.” Michael says.

“Goodbye, my little Michael.” Gavin replies and then he lets go.

Gavin is just a few paces away when Michael calls after him.

“Hey Gavin, wait!”

“What is it?” Gavin calls back and Michael just beckons him over.

“Michael?”

“I have something of yours.”

“Something of mine?” Gavin asks and Michael nods.

“Yeah, this.” And he pulls out the earpiece Joel had given him two years ago. It’s still in mint condition, it’s never been used, and the black casing shines like an oil slick. He’d wanted to throw it away a week after he’d gotten it, but then he’d stubbornly kept it as a reminder of his failure to keep Gavin alive. He tells Gavin as much and the agent looks at him before his lips quirk.

“Well you obviously don’t need it to remind you anymore, do you?” He asks and Michael chuckles.

“No. If you want, you can have it back.” He lifts his hand in offering, but Gavin doesn’t move to take the earpiece.

“I’d rather not.” He says rather abruptly and Michael looks at him in surprise. “It’d just remind me too, wouldn’t it? Of my failures to you?” He explains and Michael scowls.

“You didn’t fail me Gavin.” Michael says heatedly and the agent smirks.

“No? Well if I didn’t fail you, and you didn’t fail me, then who keeps it?”

“No one, I guess.” Michael says slowly and Gavin’s smirk turns into a smile.

“No one.” He agrees and Michael gets an idea.

“Okay, if no one gets it, then we get rid of it.”

“Get rid of it? How?” Gavin asks wonderingly and Michael grins.

“Like this.” And then he drops the earpiece onto the asphalt, lifts his leg, and then brings his foot down once, twice, three times until the earpiece is no more than shattered casing and sad looking electronic bits.

For several moments Gavin looks at him. Again, Michael can’t read his expression, but he finds it in himself that he doesn’t care. Gavin will tell him, with or without words.

“Well this makes for a goodbye.” He says jokingly and Michael scoffs.

“Not a goodbye, maybe more of a ‘see you later’ kind of thing. Right?” Michael asks as he reaches for Gavin’s hands.

“Yes, I like that. See you later, Michael.”

“See you later Gavin.”

When they kiss again, Michael no longer feels like his heart will burst, or that his pulse will quicken until it stops. Instead everything seems to slow down and he can heard each individual heart beat go _thump, thump, thump_ against his ribcage. He cups Gavin’s face and presses the tips of his fingers into Gavin’s high cheekbones. His cools skin is pleasant, soothing.

“C’mon B!” Dan calls.

“Be there, B!” Gavin replies, but he doesn’t move. He looks at Michael some more and then he smiles softly. And when he finally does leave, he only looks back once.

Meanwhile, Michael watches in silence as Gavin heads to the jet. He says nothing as Geoff, who had been pretty silent the entire time, walks over and stands next to him. He waves at Gavin when the man stops at the top of the stairs to the jet door, turns and waves, and he keeps waving until the door closes.

There’s a moment where he assumes the pilot waits for everyone on board to be seated and then the jet starts to move down the run way. Michael squints as the jet makes its way down the tarmac, the sun shining brightly in the near cloudless sky.

Michael stays silent when the jet is a mere dot on the runway, says nothing when the jet gets into the air, and he is still quiet when he can no longer see it. He hears Geoff scuff his shoe against the pavement and then,

“Time to head home, eh buddy?” Geoff asks and Michael nods.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.”  

Getting into the front passenger seat of Geoff’s car, Michael thinks of the earpiece. He pictures it whole, intact and a symbol of his hatred for his supposed mistakes. Then he remembers how it felt to stomp it to bits and he decides he likes recalling that image much better.

Geoff turns on the radio when they’re out of the lot and on the road. The iconic voice of the host tells them about current events and talks about the weather.

It’s going to be warm, the host says. Really warm. And then he introduces a new track as Geoff makes a turn. Michael leans back in his seat and closes his eyes just before a ray of sunlight passes over.

“Hey Geoff?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“Can you turn the volume up? I kinda like this song.” He hears rather than sees Geoff shrug.

“Sure…”

_‘… odds are that we_

_Will probably be_

_All right_

_Odds are we’re gonna be all right_

_Odds are we’re gonna be all right tonight.’_

\---

**A few days later…**

**Saturday, August 3 rd, 8:11 PM **

Outside of work, Barbara has never ‘attended’ a cremation. Because of her job as an Integration Agent, she’s been to three; Alan Sharpe’s making it four. According to supernatural law, Sharpe would have received the death sentence anyways, but there was a certain satisfaction about burning a killer.

Having Lana Forde as the one to ignite the pyre threw Barbara off a tad. (And yes, Sharpe would be burned in a pyre. Supernatural law was very modern when concerning state lines and jurisdiction, but it still contained archaic practices like death by fire or deadly injections of wolfsbane.) It was against regulation to have people involved in cases be part of the proceedings as it provided a conflict of interest, but Forde had a written and signed statement from the Vice Director so there was no use protesting it. Gavin was good at that. He was excellent at finding ways to let people do what they wanted through some loophole. He’d always been good at it, but maybe it was because he’d been part of creating MESA’s modern policies that gave him an advantage. His father, Lord Greenaway, had been grooming him for leadership for years, and though Barbara knew he was capable, it was always strange to picture Gavin as Director. Something about levels, she guessed.

Anyhow, Forde was given the torch to light the fire, and after a few splashes of kerosene and fussing with the kindling, the pyre was lit and then Alan Sharpe was no more than a pile of ashes and smoke that curled into Barbara’s lungs. It made her hack and wheeze and made tears form in her eyes, as if Sharpe were trying to claim one last victim from beyond the grave, but a few minutes later she was fine.

“Are you ready to go, Miss Forde?” Barbara asks after the ‘witnesses’ of Sharpe’s burning had dispersed and it was just the two of them in front of a smouldering pile of blackened wood.

For a long while Forde just stares at the dark pile of dust that was once her attempted killer, but then she turns to look at Barbara and her eyes (once only doe brown now ringed with amber) are full of purpose.

“It’s Lana. I told Gavin, uh, Agent Greenaway that he could call me Lana. And then he told me you’d help me, so the invitation extends to you.”

“Oh, well, did he mention me specifically?” Forde looks away at that but then, almost instantly, looks back.

“No, but the way he talked about his department, Integration, he was really fucking sure you could help me. And I trust him, so I guess I can trust you. I can trust you, right?”

When Barbara hears Lana say ‘Integration’ she wants to tell her about Gavin being VD, but she’d received her own written instructions not to tell. Lana had been given the impression that Gavin, though an agent with MESA, was _just_ an agent. The rest of her impression of him was that he was good at his job, and he was, but what she thought was his job was _not actually his job._ Gavin’s proclivity for keeping people in the dark about his authority, because he hated the special treatment that people gave him when he told them his position, would come to bite him in the ass one day. In fact, it already had, but that was a bridge Barbara would not yet cross.

In essence, Lana didn’t know and she _wouldn’t_ know if Barbara had anything to do with it. What happened outside of Barbara’s reach was, obviously, out of her hands, but she would try to handle whatever was thrown her way. She had the training and the aptitude and she relished being able to put both to use, but it was a gamble. She might have broken even once but, if the time came, she wanted to walk away with something.

“Agent Dunkelman?”

“Huh?” _‘Did I just-’_

“You kinda spaced out there, are you okay?” Oh. Being asked if she could be trusted was big thing and it caught her off guard.

“I, uh, yeah. I mean, yes, I’m fine.” Lana eyes Barbara skeptically and then her face clears as she comes to a decision.

“So?” She asks and, this time, Barbara is prepared.

“Yes.” Barbara states resolutely and Lana blinks.

“Yes?”

“Yes you can trust me, _Lana._ ” Barbara replies, putting emphasis on her soon to be charge’s name.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

\---  

**Monday, August 12 th, 10:02 AM **

When Michael hears he’s allowed to stay at work for a full day, he is over the moon, completely ecstatic that he doesn’t have to stay at home and rest. He still had to go to check ups, but he could do shit by himself now and that was all that mattered to him.

Lindsay and Ray had been darlings, helping him do things, lifting shit for him, and making sure he didn’t aggravate his injury, but the dam had burst when Lindsay offered to drive him to the hospital so he could go for a checkup. He’d raised his voice at her, and felt instantly guilty for it, but she’d understood and did that thing of her where she calmed him down so he could think, and therefore speak, coherently.

“I’m fine Linds. I’m fine. You’ve been fucking amazing, but I think I can do this on my own.” He’d stared up at her with earnest, barely daring to blink or breathe lest he miss any change in her expression or stance. He needn’t bothered. The smile that curved her lips started slow. It stretched into a grin so wide Michael’s own cheeks hurt to look at it, but that was a good thing.

“Okay. Okay, you can drive yourself there. But if something happens, don’t be a moron. Don’t ignore help because you think you don’t need it.”

“I understand.” When she’d frowned at that, Michael had been perplexed. His mind was instantly awhirl with questions. Wasn’t that what she wanted? Didn’t she want him to agree to be careful? What the fuck?  

He couldn’t make any promises about not being stupid because no matter how smart he was, he had his dumb moments. But he’d said he’d understood. What was wrong with that?

“Lindsay?”

“I don’t need you to understand, Michael. I need you to say ‘yes, I’ll get help if I need it’ because I can’t go through that again.”

“That?”

“Almost losing you. You got shot in the shoulder and I almost lost you for a second time.”

“Second time?”

“Two years ago; after Gavin jumped? The way you were, it was like losing you. Please don’t let me go through that again.”

“Lindsay…”

“Please, Michael.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Lindsay repeats and Michael nods.

“Yeah, okay. I promise you Lindsay. I’m gonna try. I’m gonna fucking try.”

By then there had been tears in her eyes, threatening to fall, but she’d given him a watery smile and he’d grinned at her. Then he’d taken her into his arms and hugged her as tightly as his still healing injury would allow.

“I’m gonna go now. Will you be okay?” She didn’t reply right away. Instead she’d looked at him with something akin to pride in her eyes.

“I think I’m gonna be all right.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

That had been earlier in the week and he had another appointment scheduled, but that wasn’t until the end of the month and by then his injury would have had more time to heal. All in all, Michael was content. There were folders on his desk, and a few emails he had to answer, but he was certifiably I a good mood.

“Hey Michael!” A voice calls and Michael swivels around in his chair to look at who called him.

“Yeah Kerry?” Michael responds and he sees the officer walk forward with a bouquet of flowers.

“Well, uh, these were left at the front and your name is on the card so…” At the word ‘these’ Kerry lifts the flowers.

“Who the fuck would send me flowers? I mean, Lindsay might. Did she?”

“I checked the card and there’s no name. If it was Lindsay, she’d sign, right?” Kerry asks and Michael hums.

“She would.” He agrees as his eyes zero in on the card. It’s strung with a golden yellow ribbon that matches the yellow and compliments the blue flowers in the arrangement.

“Are you sure they’re for me? It could be Jack’s wife. They seem like the type of couple that does this sort of thing for each other.” Michael tries and Kerry shakes his head.

“Nope, your name is definitely on the card.”

“Well okay then, you can hand it over, I guess.” Michael reaches out with both hands and Kerry hands him the bouquet.

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Kerry asks and Michael shrugs.

“Yeah…”

After Kerry leaves Michael checks the card and for a moment he just stares at in disbelief. All the card reads is:

_Michael,_

_Congratulations_

_\- K_

The penmanship is blocky, every letter capitalized, and Michael doesn’t recognize it. The letter signed in lieu of a name at the bottom rings no bells. Whoever it is knows him, but he doesn’t know them.

He eyes the bouquet again, blue anemone, yellow begonia, and the green of Bells of Ireland. The sender was kind enough to tell him the names. He’s heard that certain flowers mean certain things, but he’s not really in the mood to look that shit up. It’s his first full day back and he does not want to spend it Googling the language of flowers.

Sighing in defeat, Michael pushes his chair away from his desk and stands up.

“I should probably get these into some water.”

END. 


End file.
